From the Same Cloth

“I think I’ve got the perfect costume,” Blake said as they rounded the corner from the park.

“What’s that?” Jim huffed, trying to keep his voice level. Damn kid and his long legs. Four miles at a solid pace, and he was barely breaking a sweat. Jim had always been a strong runner, surprisingly so for a guy of his stature, but there was nothing like regular runs with a 21-year-old to put things into perspective. First the kid had outgrown him, and now he could outrun him, and he supposed that was just the way things went.

“I’m gonna go as Dad,” Blake said, grinning to himself as he did.

Jim barked out a panting laugh. “That’s either the most inspired idea, or the laziest one.”

“Sometimes a thing can be both, right?” Blake said, turning his grin on Jim, and yeah, right there, he could see it. Damn, the kid really had grown up. Sure, he’d always taken after Hugh, more and more so the older he got, as his shoulders broadened and he filled out, got tall and strong and deep in the chest like his father was. Jim hadn’t really noticed it too much before, but now he saw how Blake’s features had shifted too, starting to resolve themselves, taking on their adult form. Hugh’s form there, too, especially when Blake smiled.

Jim felt a weird little twinge at the notion that the kid he’d watched grow up was a man now, and he supposed he was allowed to feel a little paternal about that. But damn, he really did look so much like his father. Same strong square jaw, same proud, straight nose, even the same prominent cleft chin. And when he smiled like that, he looked exactly like the good-looking young father who’d moved in across the street fifteen years ago. That gave Jim a whole different kind of twinge, and now all of a sudden he had two warring factions inside him, the wistful and the… shit, best not to think about it. Yeah. Put it out of mind.

“C’mon, it’ll be a total trip, he’ll laugh his ass off,” Blake said as they slowed for the cooldown stretch heading into their street. “I could even fake some gray on my temples, try and get a little five o’clock shadow goin’...”

Jim swallowed hard, because fuck, he could picture that pretty damn precisely, and that was a thing he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. Not that way. Not about this kid. Too late not to think about his Dad like that, that ship had well and truly sailed, but this… this was dangerous territory.

“Not saying you couldn’t pull it off, sure...” Jim said, trying not to let the uneasiness that had suddenly settled into his stomach show through in his voice. Uneasiness, and… fuck. Maybe it was already too late.

“Oh I know I can pull it off,” Blake said confidently, a jut of certainty to his jaw that was 100% his father, and Jim made himself look away. He started wondering if the sweat prickling between his shoulder blades was from the run, or something else altogether.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Blake urged, nudging Jim with his elbow, an infectious youthful excitement in his voice. “I’ve already got it figured out, you’ll see. But I could use somebody else’s eye to make sure I got it right, y’know?”

In spite of himself and his better instincts, Jim found himself nodding. There was no good reason to decline — no good reason he could say out loud, at least.

“Yeah, sure, I guess so…” Jim said, and Blake beamed and punched his shoulder. It was a pulled punch, but there was real power behind it, just like his father had, and Jim cursed himself inside some more.

“It’s the best idea ever, you’ll see,” Blake said excitedly, picking up the pace again to jog towards his house. Jim was pretty sure it wasn’t, at least not for him, but he sucked it up and followed the big handsome kid anyway.

*   *   *   *   *

“So it’s not, like, a perfect fit,” Blake was saying from the depths of Hugh’s closet, his voice deep and resonant in a way it hadn’t been even a year ago. Jim stood there in the middle of the room, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden, even though he’d been in here dozens of times before. But that was with Hugh, in one way or another, and Hugh was in New York, and Jim was in his master bedroom with Hugh’s son now, wishing fervently that he wasn’t.

“We’re about the same size through the shoulders,” Blake said, emerging with a gray pinstripe suit on a hanger, covered in dry cleaner’s plastic. “But he’s thicker than me, y’know, a little bigger through the chest too. But close enough, I think, right?”

*Close enough, sure,* Jim thought, swallowing as he nodded. Blake was holding the suit out to his side like a salesman, displayed along the long, muscular length of his young arm, and for one crazy instant Jim imagined Hugh’s spectral presence was in the room with them, the invisible Dad in the suit, watching Jim trying not to watch his son the way Jim watched him.

Right, Ghost Hugh in his suit, Jim thought. Fuckin’ Halloween. Suddenly it felt a little hot in the room.

“I’ve got one of his ties, and I’m even gonna wear one of his shirts,” Blake was saying, “because they’re better than mine are, and if you’re gonna do the look, you really gotta do the look, yeah?”

“Sure, why not go the whole nine,” Jim chuckled, trying not to sound as uneasy as he felt.

“Exactly,” Blake said, reaching back and pulling a crisp white dress shirt from the closet. He hung the suit on the closet doorknob, slipped the shirt from its hanger, then stopped.

“Crap,” he muttered. “I’m gonna get it all sweaty…”

Jim swallowed hard again and tried not to notice that Blake’s T-shirt was indeed a little sweaty, sweaty and clinging to a big pair of pecs and thick, rounded biceps much like his father’s. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to go.

Blake shrugged, hung the shirt on the shoulder of the suit, then tugged his T-shirt up and off in one fluid motion, swabbing it unselfconsciously over his chest, down his stomach, up beneath his pits, efficient and matter-of-fact about it. Fuck, the kid really had gotten big, and Jim wondered how he hadn’t really noticed it before.

Because you’re his “Uncle” Jim, he thought. And who says you didn’t notice — you just don’t want to admit you did.

He was noticing Blake now, though — noticing the solid ripple of his abs, thick and defined plates of muscle shifting below smooth skin lightly dusted with a fur trail. The kind of stomach that came easily to a 21-year-old, that if he took care of himself and ate decently would solidify into a solid, rounded core of power by the time he got into his forties, strong and thick and manly. Just like his father’s. Jim swallowed hard again. Jesus christ, this was getting ridiculous, he thought as he watched his buddy’s hot grown son wipe the sweat from his muscular torso with his T-shirt, then discard it on the floor. It was like a cheesy porno, and that just made him want to go home and jerk off even more, now.

Blake slipped his father’s shirt on, hanging open on his broad, muscular young shoulders and perfectly framing the powerfully built terrain of his torso. The kid had been a stud wrestler and wide receiver in high school, and it showed in his big shoulders and tight waist, amplified even more now by serious time in the campus gym. Blake was saying something that Jim was only half-hearing, unable to help himself as he watched those muscles shift and flex, unable to stop thinking about how the big kid moved so similarly to his father, the way Hugh looked when he got dressed. He watched Blake pull his father’s suit trousers from their hanger and lay them over the back of a nearby chair, then swallowed so hard he thought it must be audible as the big young stud hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his gym shorts.

Ah fuck, no, not that, Jim thought, but he was helpless to do anything about it. All he could do was stare at the sight before him, Blake’s long, strong athlete’s legs, thick with muscle, all big long bulging quads and flaring calf muscles, flexing and shifting as he stepped out of his shorts. Thighs just like his father’s, big and powerful, the kind of thighs that felt great to stroke your way up, in Jim’s experience. Hugh’s sure did, and before he could stop himself, he was remembering the way his big stud fuckbuddy’s thick-cut thighs felt, all big hard muscle and hair, tensing up under Jim’s appreciative stroking hands as they moved up towards his underwear to…

Jim could feel himself starting to sweat again, a nervous sweat overcoating the athletic one in his pits.

Blake’s thighs weren’t the only thing that called his father to mind, either. His boxer briefs were a light gray, and the way they clung to him just amplified the size of the package the kid was toting, a big, healthy bulge that drew Jim’s eye like a tractor beam. He couldn’t help himself, watching the heft of it shift back and forth inside Blake’s undies. Couldn’t help but compare it to Hugh’s, either, and much as he tried not to, already he was picturing the way Hugh’s big cock looked when it was full-blown hard, and wondering just how close a match Blake was for his Dad in that department, too. Based on the look of things, the big strapping kid was as big a chip off the old block in that department as he was in every other one.

I have *got* to get the hell out of here, he thought to himself, but all he could do now was try to control the direction of his thoughts, try to maintain the façade of the good neighbor, try to keep his cock from making its presence known in his own shorts.

Blake buttoned up and tucked his father’s dress shirt into the suit pants, hooked one of Hugh’s ties around his neck and slipped it into a serviceable knot, and then pulled a pair of black dress shoes from the closet. They were a perfect fit, of course, Blake’s feet sliding into Hugh’s size-12s like he was born to wear them.

Jim watched Blake don his father’s suit jacket, and he had to admit, the kid was right. He really could pull it off, and he was most certainly doing the look. He’d tucked the excess fabric of Hugh’s dress shirt in, letting it blouse out just enough to give the suggestion of Hugh’s thicker middle-aged core, but otherwise it was striking. It was like some mad scientist had zapped Hugh with an anti-aging ray or something, turning him back into the hot 21-year-old college boy Jim was sure he’d been. The whole thing was starting to fuck with Jim’s head a little already.

And damn, as if it hadn’t been enough to watch this big hot kid strip down and then dress back up again, seeing how obviously like his hot father Blake was — how much like Jim’s longstanding best friend and fuckbuddy the big kid looked — well, it was starting to fuck with Jim’s loins now, too. In a big way. He was ashamed by it, disappointed in himself — Blake still called him “Uncle Jim” sometimes, for Christ’s sake — but god damn it if Blake didn’t have that same kind of effect on Jim as his Dad did, now. That ability to make him want to forget himself, and just go with what his cock wanted instead. It wasn’t just his big, handsome body — it was pure masculine presence, something his father had in spades, virile and powerful and compelling. Now Blake was manifesting it too, not even having to try, and somehow that was the sexiest thing of all, seeing his hot fuckbuddy’s big hot kid slipping into that virile power of being a man, just as easily as he’d slipped into his father’s suit.

“So, am I right, or am I right?” Blake said, and dammit, if he’d at least gotten his smile from his mother, it might have been one thing. But no, it looked like Hugh’s genes were supreme, all-conquering, and that didn’t surprise Jim in the least.

“I gotta say, buddy, you’re right,” Jim said, his voice sounding a lot steadier than he was feeling. “It’s crazy, to be honest. Hell, next time he gets his license renewed, he oughta send you down to the DMV in his place for the picture.”

Blake chuckled a little modestly, but Jim could tell he was pleased. Shit, in his shoes, Jim would have been too. Hugh was a good-looking fucker, everyone knew it, and Blake could definitely stand on his level proudly. Jim knew Hugh would be flattered, amused, and proud when he saw his spitting-image kid dressed up as him at the street party in a few days’ time. For his part, Jim wondered now if he’d be able to take the sight of the two of them together like that.

“So yeah, there’s a couple other details that’ll really make it work,” Blake was saying as he undid his father’s tie and unshouldered his suit jacket. “But I think I’ve got the basics down.”

Again, Jim wasn’t listening especially close, too caught up in the sight of Blake efficiently undressing again, and shit, even in that, the way he moved, it was like every damn time he’d watched Hugh undress before him too. And that had been a lot of times, over the last fifteen years they’d been neighbors and friends, and fuckbuddies too. He could feel the flush on his face, the prickle low in his belly, as he watched Blake slip the suit pants off, showing off those incredible jock thighs of his, and then undoing the shirt, baring his pecs with the little patch of manly hair between them, his rippling stomach muscles…

“Uncle Jim?” he dimly heard Blake saying.

“Huh?” he grunted dumbly, looking up with a start. Blake was standing there, in his boxer briefs and his athletic socks and his father’s open shirt, framed with the lengths of Hugh’s undone tie. Tie and shirt and young muscle, and that hefty bulge of cock in his underwear. Standing there and regarding Jim with a curious expression, head cocked to one side in a way that was pure Hugh. Then Blake smiled slowly, almost slyly, just doubling down on the effect.

“My eyes are up here, Uncle Jim,” he said, his voice pitched a little lower, very much into his father’s deeper register.

Jim felt himself blush all over, hard. God damn his stupid cock and the way it was connected to his brain. God damn it for letting him get off track, and caught out. Caught ogling his buddy’s son. Caught thinking about the big kid he’d watched grow up, in the way he thought about his father. Caught letting his stupid dumb lusts get the better of him.

“I, uh…” Jim said, his face feeling hotter than the surface of the sun, sweating harder into the underarms of his already damp T-shirt. Feeling like a kid who’d gotten busted doing something wrong. Which, of course, he had been. Sure, he’d noticed what a good-looking kid Blake was over the years, especially as he’d grown the way he had. But he’d done pretty well, he thought, to keep that recognition walled off. Objective, in a way. He was a father himself, after all, and Hugh was his best buddy, in and out of bed. He’d been proud to be considered as like an uncle to Blake all these years, and proud he hadn’t betrayed that trust with untoward thoughts about him. But it looked like the libidinal part of his brain had well and truly betrayed him, now.

Blake just stood there, half undressed, his beautiful body perfectly framed by his father’s clothes, regarding Jim with that slight head-cock, an expression that was curious and kind of amused. But confident, too, just like his father. It all made Jim want to scream inside.

“I guess it really does work,” Blake said.

“Huh?” Jim said. He was an intelligent guy, but right now he didn’t seem to have any words at all.

“The costume,” Blake went on, traces of a smile coming in now. “Or… the effect, I guess.”

“I don’t…” Jim muttered, and shit, where had all this fog inside his skull come from all of a sudden?

“Yeah you do,” Blake said, and there was that voice, that eerie, sexy echo of his father’s deep baritone. It sounded a little weird coming from his younger body, but then it also sounded just right, too.

Blake stepped forward, closer, and Jim could feel his fingernails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists involuntarily. His heart was starting to race, as though they were still running together. He felt frozen, nailed to the carpet, watching the way his fuckbuddy’s handsome young clone moved toward him, the physical confidence of the big young jock a pure echo of his father, backing up his looks and his attire.

“It’s OK,” Blake said. “I know you and Dad are… real good friends. I know how he looks, to you. And how much I look like him.”

Blake was getting closer and closer now, and shit, Jim could smell him, smell the sweat that was still drying on his creamy young skin, his manly, masculine aroma that was so unmistakable, because it was so much like his father’s. A smell Jim knew very well, and as it curled up into his nostrils, he could feel its tendrils seeking their way up into his brain, and down inside of him, down deep into his loins, that old familiar effect that he usually loved so much, but felt like pure torture to him now. Torture, and still, helplessly, he could feel his cock starting to harden.

“So I guess I know how I must look to you too, Uncle Jim,” Blake said, and that last part felt like a twist of the knife to Jim. Blake’s voice was low and deep and close now. Dangerously intimate.

“Blake, buddy, I don’t…” Jim muttered, but the kid shook his head, that smile growing a little more, as he stepped into Jim’s personal space. All that youthful sweat and musk surged around Jim now, making his nostrils twitch, his mouth water, and his cock flare inside his underwear.

“Jim,” Blake said, his voice warm but firm. Decisive. The way he said it — not “Uncle Jim”, but just “Jim” — made Jim’s cock twitch in his shorts again. And god, he sounded exactly like his father.

“It’s OK,” Blake went on. “I don’t mind. It’s a compliment, really. I mean… my Dad’s a hot guy, right?” Then he reached up and stroked his fingertips real lightly over the curved swell of Jim’s bicep, and Jim thought his heart might stop altogether.

Jim was pretty sure he must have tripped over on their run and hit his head. He had to be imagining this. It could be the only explanation, surely, for the fact that his best buddy’s handsome near-clone of a son was coming onto him. And in a way that was super reminiscent of the first time Hugh had stepped up close to him in Jim’s garage over a decade ago after a workout together, and made the first move on him.

“What… I don’t…” Jim stuttered, inwardly cursing his sudden inarticulacy.

“It’s OK,” Blake said again, grinning at him, fingertips trailing down the thick muscles of Jim’s forearm, then back up, slowly, all the way to his shoulder. “I do.”

Blake’s fingers trailed back down the length of Jim’s arm, to his wrist, hanging there in the air uselessly. Jim swallowed as Blake’s fingers encircled it, taking hold of him, and he let out a shuddering breath when the kid guided his hand to his hip. He couldn’t help but squeeze, feeling the fabric of Blake’s boxer briefs below his father’s shirt, and the steely strength of the body beneath them. Blake grinned and nodded at him, and again Jim got that weird time-travel vibe. His head was all fucked up now, but his body knew what to do, taking over for him, his hand stroking Blake’s solid hip, down the top of his thigh.

“Do I feel like him?” Blake asked, a husky register to his voice that was thoroughly grown-up, and all Jim could do was nod. Blake grinned a little wider, giving him an almost imperceptible nod in return. Then, after a long beat, he added a little pressure to Jim’s wrist, guiding it off his hip, across the warm fabric of his boxer briefs, towards the growing heat at the center. Towards the shape of him there, big and thickening even as Jim’s fingers grazed against the mound.

Blake guided his hand along the length, all the way to the tip, then back to roughly the midpoint of his cockbulge, and pressed down on Jim’s hand. They both grunted together as Jim felt it flex up, pulsing beneath his now-sweaty palm. He looked down at it, the long bulge of it pushing across Blake’s hip to the left, just like Hugh’s did. Found himself giving it a squeeze, pure reflex, and Blake’s deep-chested rumble of pleasure brought his eyes back up to the kid’s handsome face, finding those clear blue eyes locked steadily on his. He knew that gaze very well, and seeing it emanating from Blake’s face, manly and intent and inviting all at once, sent a weird electric chill all through his core.

“There too?” Blake asked, that familiar slanted half-smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Jim said, his voice sounding thick and slow, nodding, the words seeming to come out of some place deep in his head, unable to stop them. “Just like him.”

Blake let out a husky little noise, his cock throbbing distinctly under Jim’s palm, and Jim knew there was a lot more going on here than what was clamoring inside his own head. He also knew there was a lot more that could happen, too. If Blake let him. If he let himself.

Jim’s hand moved of its own accord this time, Blake’s hand resting lightly on his wrist now as Jim pressed down on the hard young length of him, pushing the heel of his palm up to the tip, feeling it pulse hotly, then back down to the base, cupping the big mound of his balls. It was Jim’s turn to murmur one of those husky little noises now, feeling the fullness of this young man he’d watched grow up, all those years while Jim and his father were fucking around. Feeling how much of a man the big young stud had become, so completely in his father’s handsome image. Up and down, taking Blake’s full measure, as Blake grunted and sighed happily and let himself be appreciated for the fine man he’d grown into.

So much for self-restraint, you idiot, Jim thought. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d been married twice and fucked a lot of women in his forty-five years on this planet, but he’d never been able to resist the lure of a well-built dude like himself. Even all those times when he should have resisted — hell, especially those times. In that, he’d found a fellow traveler in Hugh, this big young stud’s father, and just like everything else that made Blake such a clone of his big stud of a father, it seemed like that particular apple hadn’t fallen too far from the sturdy tree that had borne it.

The forbidden fruit, he thought with a slight grin to himself. Fuck it, he decided. They were here now, him and Blake, here with his hand stroke-squeezing along the thick length of his fuckbuddy and best friend’s son. Here with his own cock throbbing just as hard inside the sweaty stretch of his briefs. Here with Blake’s encouragement, too. Just as it had been with Hugh all those years ago, and that had turned into one of the best things in Jim’s life.

“What do you want out of this, buddy?” he said, looking Blake directly in the eyes again. A challenge. The kid walked like a man, looked like a man, and he for damn sure felt like one. Would he step up like one, too?

“What do you want… from me?” he finished, palming his way back up to the flare of Blake’s cockhead, making it pulse, allowing himself a little half-smile at the soft, deep grunt that elicited from the kid.

“What do you want?” Blake asked huskily, after a long moment, licking his lips with either lust or uncertainty. A shade of the boy he was until recently in his eyes, a flicker of something unsure.

“I want you to use your fucking words, like a man, and tell me, kid,” Jim said, fixing an intent look into the kid’s eyes, a little growl in his voice now. For good measure, he rubbed his thumb over what he knew was the underside of Blake’s cockhead, that sensitive spot that triggered just about every man, in his long and diverse experience. A little shudder of pleasure rippled through Blake’s big young body, and suddenly the fabric of his boxer briefs was sticky and humid under Jim’s insistent, circling, stroking thumb.

That brought a flare to Blake’s eyes, and Jim grinned a little more at that. Just like his Dad, alright. Every jock liked a challenge, and a guy who’d grown up in his father’s handsome shadow like Blake here had would hate to be called “kid”. Especially at his age, built like he was, and hung like he was too, with a grown man stroking him.

“I want you… to suck my cock, Uncle Jim,” Blake said, that edge of determination coming out in the husk of his growl. All man, alright. “Like you do with my Dad.”

The big young fuck was grinning but showing a little teeth too, challenging him right back, and Jim was all about that. Already he could picture what Blake’s fucking face would look like. Already, he knew he was almost certainly going to see it for real.

“Yeah?” Jim growled. “What do you know about that, huh?”

“I know you two have been foolin’ around for years. I know you make my Dad cum like a fuckin’ porn star,” Blake said, the growl deeper in his voice now. “And I know you can make me cum just as hard too, Uncle Jim.”

That last bit, spat out hungrily, was all challenge, for sure, and it hit Jim inside in the way Blake probably expected it to. A sharp twist to the guts, a reminder of who he was, who they were, the history between them, the parallel track it had run with his history with Blake’s father. Two trains running, converging, Jim the junction that could bring it all together.

Any other man probably would have backed down, unhanded the kid’s big, hard cock, hustled out the door and felt awkward around him for the rest of his life. But Jim was as surprised as anyone would be to find out he wasn’t that man. Never had been, and he’d only proven it more when he slid his hand up and down the length of Blake’s thick jock son hardon, unbidden, just like he did to his father. No, Jim was the other kind of man, the kind of man who loved to connect with another guy like him, muscle to muscle, skin to skin, mouth to flesh, exploring the kind of lusty, muscular pleasures only men could truly know together.

And just like his father, it sure seemed like Blake was that kind of man, too. He proved it by reaching between them and running his own big, strong hand along the throbbing tubular mound in Jim’s old Army-issue PT shorts, nodding and grinning that hungry smile as he did.

“Yeah, I’ve known it awhile,” he nodded, all his father’s lusty certainty in his eyes. “Knew I wanted you to do it, too. So… do it, Uncle Jim.”

Fuck, Jim loved this kind of game. “Do what, son?” he said, giving the last bit a kick, showing the big young stud he could play just as well. He’d been playing this game a lot longer, after all.

Blake’s eyes flared and his grin faltered for a minute, then came back bigger, hungrier. He clamped one big young hand on Jim’s beefy shoulder.

“Suck my fuckin’ cock, big guy,” he said, all husky and raspy and hungry, and Jim’s cock throbbed at how much like his stud of a father the kid sounded. Then that strong young hand began to press down on his shoulder, and Jim let it, going with it, looking up into the kid’s bright, sharp, hungry blue eyes, tracking them the whole way as he dropped to his knees on the deep-pile carpet of Hugh’s master bedroom, the way he’d done a hundred times before.

“You know what we’re doing here, buddy?” he asked, running his hands up those big young thighs, feeling the steely power of them. Echoes, he thought to himself.

“Seems pretty obvious to me,” Blake chuckled, that grin of his amused and hungry at once. Manly as fuck.

Jim narrowed his eyes and squeezed the prime beef of Blake’s strong jock thighs.

“Do you know,” he said. A test, in a way, of just how much of a man Blake was, mentally and emotionally. You could fool around with another dude, and it didn’t have to be a big deal. Never had been, for Jim. But this was a different kind of deal altogether. This would have consequences, and as much as he wanted it, Jim wanted Blake to know how much might be at stake.

“I know,” Blake said, nodding, charmingly earnest. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. About him and you. About you. And about me and you too, Uncle Jim.”

Blake paused, thoughtful, then hesitantly reached one hand up, ghosted his fingers on Jim’s jaw. Right then, Jim could see the boy he still was at heart, and he felt suddenly flooded with warmth and an almost paternal love for the kid he knew so well. That, and the man he was starting, hoping, to discover.

“I know,” Blake said again, looking and sounding more resolute now. More like his father. “And I want it. Like you do. Maybe even more.”

Jim nodded at that, and gave Blake a warm smile. Squeeze-stroked his muscle-thick young thighs.

“Good, buddy,” he said. “And yeah. I want it too.”

He shifted his gaze to the bigness of the bulge before him, wet-tipped and dark with precum where he’d thumbstroked the head, and slid his hands up Blake’s thighs, up to his trim athlete’s hips, and took hold of the waistband of his boxer briefs, beneath the hanging tails of his father’s dress shirt. He started to work the soft, sweat-damp fabric down, releasing an immediate cloud of manly young scent, sweat and balls and musk, full of pheromones and promise and the sense memory of Blake’s hunky Dad, the best lover Jim had ever had. Time to see if that still held true, as he inhaled the richness of Hugh’s young son-clone and inched his underwear down to free his big, hard young cock.

“So let’s do it, big guy,” Jim said, releasing the young stud’s towering hardon, and leaned in to do one of the things he liked to do best. One of the things Blake’s Dad liked him to do best too.

*   *   *   *   *

The Halloween night party had become something of a tradition on their street over the years, and Jim was always proud to host it. It was a chance for the neighbors to mingle and drink a little, grill out in the crisp end-of-October evening air, and an opportunity for the kids to run around in their costumes, trade candy, and generally just enjoy the fun of a street party while the weather still allowed it. Somewhere along the way, some of the adults had taken to dressing up in costume too, and that’s where Jim had wound up getting himself into the spot he had with Blake a couple days before.

It had been an awkward couple days for him, for sure. He’d gone home after his unexpected encounter with his best friend’s strapping boy with the taste of the kid’s cum still heavy in his mouth, salty and mineral and tangy on his tongue as he locked himself into his own master bathroom, shucked his PT shorts and sweaty, precum-smeared briefs down around his ankles, and furiously flogged his fat, sticky hardon to his second intense, hard-spurting load of the afternoon. The whole time, he stared hard at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the flush of shame and heat and lust on his face, a fresh sex-sweat making his face gleam as he grunted and panted and shot a thick half-dozen blasts of cum up his sweaty torso.

He and Blake hadn’t gone running together again since, and he’d found himself peeking around the curtains before he went out, making sure he wouldn’t bump into the big young stud. Leaving for work a little earlier than usual, coming back a little later, trying to minimize the chances of an awkward encounter. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed and confused, and yet every time he started to think about how wrong it was, what he’d done, he inevitably thought about the thick flex of Blake’s big young jock thighs, the feel of the crisp hairs on them, the guttural way the kid grunted as Jim swallowed him down to the chunky root of his big fucking cock. The way those grunts and his murmured words of encouragement sounded so much like his father’s. The way he tasted — young and musky and primally male, so much like his father, and yet so uniquely his own distinct flavor, too. The memory of it lingered in Jim’s head, like a favorite meal.

Hugh was due back the afternoon of Halloween itself, and the inevitability of the three of them intersecting at the party loomed heavy over Jim almost every moment. Man, he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up more than a few times in his life, for sure, but this one felt like the War and Peace of stupid, cock-driven, life-denting fuckups.

It didn’t help that Hugh had texted him a couple times from his business trip, and when his best-friend fuckbuddy had sent him a few suggestive lines and a picture of that big, handsome cock of his, Jim winced and hung his head in shame. But he’d rallied, sending a pic of his own chunky hardon back to his buddy, the whole time unsure who it was harder for — his talented, lusty best bud, or his best bud’s equally big and lusty son.

Both, that troublemaking voice in his head had whispered, and that sent a surge of pure horny energy through him. And shortly thereafter, Hugh got a reply message with a short video of Jim’s fat, slick hardon spurting eight blasts of cum up his thick torso.

So by the time Halloween itself rolled around, Jim was in genuine turmoil. It helped to have all the prep work to do to get set up, but he was still tense and moody all day long. His wife largely kept her distance — but then, that was pretty much the regular story between them lately anyway, so Jim didn’t know if it was her sensing his mood, or just SOP — and Jim plunged himself into making sure the grill was primed, the chest freezer in the garage was stocked with ice, the decorations were up and everything squared away. Having things to do and other people to attend to helped keep his mind off the danger zone pulsing malevolently in the back of his brain and deep in his guts, and by the time dusk fell and the kids were starting to do their trick-or-treating rounds, he was finally starting to get a little bit into the spirit.

At least, until the big hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed while he was busy tending to the grill.

“Hey buddy, looking good,” came that deep, familiar voice, to go with the deep, familiar feeling of that big, strong hand squeezing his shoulder, in that way that would look casually friendly to anyone else, but was in reality a deeply intimate, manly expression.

Jim froze in place for a second, feeling the sudden flush, his guts knotting. And the worst of it was, for a moment there, he couldn’t tell by the voice which of them it was — his best bud, or the son he’d betrayed him with.

“You know it,” he said, arranging his face into a friendly grin before turning to see Hugh, standing there, that fucking smile on his face that felt particularly special to Jim. The big, handsome fucker looked great as ever, still in his suit, and despite everything, Jim felt that subtle crackle of energy between them, that flare of instinctual desire deep down in his loins.

“I do indeed,” Hugh said, looking around to see if they were being observed, his voice pitched a little lower, that deep, husky, sexy register he so often used when it was just the two of them. His hand lingered on Jim’s big shoulder, squeezing subtly again, and goddammit, Jim could feel himself chubbing up in his briefs. “How you been, stud?”

“Ah, y’know, busy as ever,” Jim said, unable to help himself blushing a little, gesturing around at the grill and the drinks setup and the neighbors already gathered in his backyard. “How was the trip?”

“Pretty good for a work trip,” Hugh said, then looked directly into Jim’s eyes in that meaningful, intent way that always made his balls tingle. “Been looking forward to getting back, especially after that video you sent me, big guy.”

“Ha, yeah…” Jim chuckled, sounding weak to himself. He was struggling to find something else to say when a sudden ripple of laughter and scattered applause went up from the edge of the party, heads turning to see what was going on.

What was going on was Blake making his entrance, dressed in his father’s charcoal pinstripe suit, just as he’d shown Jim the other day. He’d added one of Hugh’s old conference IDs hanging around his neck on a lanyard, and he’d even found a way to add some grey streaks to his temples, like he’d said he would. Goddammit, he looked just like him.

“Happy Halloween, neighbors!” Blake said in a booming, cheerful voice an octave deeper than his regular one, perfectly matching his father’s rich baritone, and the illusion was pretty much complete.

“Son of a bitch,” Hugh chuckled to Jim, a big grin on his face as he took in the sight of his big kid. No, Jim thought. Son of a stud, and every bit as much of a stud as you, too. Just don’t ask me how I know.

He watched as the two men spotted each other, Blake giving his father a slightly cocky grin that was like a mirror, gesturing at himself and his getup with a cocked eyebrow. Hugh let out that deep, booming laugh of his, clapping his big hands together and making his way to his big kid, nodding his approval as he went. Jim watched the two of them hug, hard and tight, big hands clapping each other on the back as the neighbors laughed and applauded, and he started to wonder if he could just go inside and lock himself in the bathroom until everyone went home at the end of the night.

Unfortunately, being the host, he couldn’t, but hosting duties gave him a reason to stay busy, keeping his brain and his hands occupied, making conversation with the neighbors and their kids, topping up drinks, handing out hot dogs, dropping candy in kids’ buckets, doing anything and everything he could to stay out of Hugh and Blake’s powerful orbit. He found himself casting sidelong glances their way, watching them working the party individually and together, Hugh showing off his clonelike son with justifiable pride. He was a personable fucker, and Blake had every bit of his charm and aptitude with people. In spite of everything else, Jim felt a kind of secondhand paternal pride, watching Blake engage with everyone who came his way, with a grown-up ease that belied his college-kid age. The kid had grown up, and grown up well.

Grown up *very* well, hasn’t he… came that voice in his head, and Jim grimaced and gritted his teeth and pushed it down, back into the flimsy box where it belonged, and started looking for something, anything to do.

A little while later, Jim had run out of things to do. He scanned the backyard, all around the little knots of neighbors, looking for a drink to refill, a plate to take, and then his eyes found Hugh and Blake. They were standing by the door to the garage, talking to each other, and seeing them standing side by side, in their near-identical suits, with their near-identical builds and their near-identical faces, murmuring together, sent a little jolt through Jim. Then, as if they’d sensed him trying not to stare at them, they both looked up in unison, right at him. And then first Hugh, then Blake, grinned at him, and Jim felt like taking a step backwards at the combined force of them. It was almost tangible; individually, each of them had enough charm and charisma for two men, but together, fuck…

Hugh nodded at Jim, a head-hooking motion that was an invitation to come over, one eyebrow raised. Jim found his feet moving even before he knew it. It was like being reeled in, especially when Blake’s handsome smile widened, and even if he’d truly wanted to, Jim knew he couldn’t resist. Hugh turned his mouth in close to his son’s ear and murmured something, Blake nodding, not moving his gaze from Jim, and god damn them both. God damn him, too, while he was at it.

“Hell of a party, as always, buddy,” Hugh said, voice rich and warm and deep, lubricated nicely with a glass of bourbon. Beside him Blake raised his own glass of bourbon in a little toast, then took a measured sip, watching Jim respond to them.

“Always a pleasure, you know that,” Jim said, feeling himself start to sweat, deep in his pits, just like he’d done in Hugh’s bedroom with Blake the other day.

“Indeed it is,” Hugh said, grinning over the rim of his glass, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable, as was the fiery reaction it stoked deep in Jim’s loins. “You deserve a reward for being such a kickass host, big guy.”

Hugh flicked his eyes at Blake, who met his father’s sidelong look, and the two of them shared an identical smile that just stoked the kindling fire in Jim’s loins even more. It was a private kind of smile, the smile of two men who knew each other well, and shared a common bond that outsiders wouldn’t understand. They held each other’s gazes for a moment, then turned their identical eyes back on Jim, and again, he felt like taking a step back in the face of the sheer force of their shared charisma. The sweat in his pits intensified, and he could feel it starting to prickle between his shoulder blades now too.

“And a reward for keeping an eye out on my boy here,” Hugh added, his voice pitched a little lower, deeper, intimately man-to-man. “For taking care of him.”

Jim swallowed hard, and the heat and the sudden fear inside him pretty much felt like the same thing now.

“Real good care of me,” Blake added, his voice pitched in an almost perfect echo of his father’s. “Like I knew you would, Uncle Jim.”

Hugh flicked his eyes past Jim’s shoulder to the party, then turned his intent, intense gaze back on his best friend. Leaned in a little closer, and now Jim could smell the faint, very familiar traces of his cologne. A clean, masculine scent, not too overpowering, that tickled faintly at his balls, from the memory of smelling it directly on Hugh’s skin, his nose buried between Hugh’s hairy pecs, his hand wrapped round his thick, hard cock, Hugh’s low, deep bedroom voice rumbling warm words to him… fuck, he was starting to get hard, and that couldn’t happen, not now, not with them…

Hugh’s arm moved, shielded from view of their neighbors by Jim’s body, and he stroked a couple of fingers down Jim’s chest, from between his pecs to just above his belt buckle. Jim couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his nips stiffen under his shirt. Even more so seeing Blake’s head incline, watching, smiling that same smile he’d given Jim when he’d sucked his big young cock in Hugh’s bedroom two days ago.

God, these two had talked. About him, and what had happened. Jim blushed hard, mixing with the slow-rising heat already starting to flush up his neck from Hugh’s slow, knowing, deeply intimate touch. Were they just toying with him now, before Hugh kicked his ass? He couldn’t read them — he and Hugh knew each other well enough, intimately enough, that they could usually read each other pretty well. But right now, faced with the two of them together, side by side, a handsome, opaque wall of muscle and suit and intent blue eyes, he couldn’t read them at all.

Or maybe he was reading them perfectly, and he just didn’t want to admit the possibilities that presented. That his handsome best friend and fuckbud, and his identically handsome son, were giving him the same intent, interested, intimate look. The one that promised all the things that Jim liked best about being a man. The two of them, both offering him the same kind of invitation to be a man with them. He shivered again, feeling his cock stretching inside his underwear, the sweat prickling his skin, the rising beat of his heart in his chest.

That couldn’t be possible. No way. Could it?

“You guys, I don’t…” Jim muttered, looking down, suddenly unable to bear the combined force of their gaze on him.

“Hey, brother, don’t,” Hugh murmured, tucking his fingers under Jim’s square chin and lifting his face back up to look at them. Fuck, Jim had so many feelings for this guy, and right now, he was feeling them all at once. Even more so when Blake’s big young hand reached out and casually squeezed his upper arm, the exact kind of supportive, friendly, man-to-man gesture his father would make. Jim shot a glance at Blake, then Hugh, seeing the same expression on their near-identical faces, the same smile, the same eyes, knowing and bright and warm all at once.

“If it was gonna be anybody, I’m glad it was you,” Hugh said. “Never wanted anything but the best for him, you know that. And I wouldn’t trust anyone the way I trust you, brother.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jim thought. His head was swirling with all kinds of emotions — fear, shame, disappointment in himself, lust. But beyond that, deeper than all that, he felt an incredible warmth for his best buddy, and his boy too. Something he’d never truly felt for anyone else, not this strongly.

“I told him it was my move, Uncle Jim,” Blake added, and Hugh’s grin widened with paternal pride at that, which in spite of everything else, was both funny and incredibly hot to Jim.

“My boy’s a chip off the ol’ block alright,” Hugh beamed proudly, stretching one big arm around Blake’s broad, suited young shoulders and squeezing. They favored each other with a warm smile that made Jim’s cock pulse all the way into a fullblown hardon, and when they both flicked their gaze down at the bulge in his jeans together, he thought he might either cum or die on the spot.

“Jesus christ, you two…” Jim muttered, feeling a sudden surging wave of relief crash through him. He wasn’t busted at all. In fact, he was... Well shit, exactly where did they all stand, now?

“Yeah, brother?” Hugh grinned, one eyebrow arched. “Us two, huh?”

Hugh looked at Blake, their eyebrows raised, grinning, the mirror and its reflection again. A silent question between them, one Jim suddenly figured they must have already asked each other, and then another surge of heat pulsed through him, from his loins all the way through his chest.

“Fuck,” Jim grunted. The Burton men turned that grinning gaze, that implicit question — that implicit invitation — on him, and now Jim was dimly aware that his cock was starting to leak.

“Maybe,” Hugh said, his sexy grin widening just a little, and Jim felt it all the way down into his core. “What do you say, son?”

“I’m with you, Dad,” Blake said, his mirror-image grin adding to the rising, swirling heat in Jim’s core. “All the way.”

*   *   *   *   *

It was a good thing the party was starting to wind down. It was a school night, after all, and the grown-ups all had things to do and places to be in the morning. Parents began filtering out with their yawning, candy-toting kids, and Jim worked quickly behind them, shaking hands, giving hugs, humbly waving away compliments on another great Halloween night party, gathering paper plates and empties as he went. Hugh and Blake pitched in to help, too, shooting him sidelong grins from time to time that just made Jim’s cock throb even more anxiously.

By the time his wife came back downstairs from getting the kids to bed, she was surprised to find the yard back to normal, the trash cleared away, just the decorations and twinkling orange novelty lights strung up around the yard remaining.

“Another great party, Lisa,” Hugh said, slipping an arm around her waist. Jim watched her respond the way most women did to Hugh — and tonight, to Blake too, which was both amusing and hot in equal measure — with a bright smile, a hand casually resting on his big chest, but without any jealousy. After all, she’d grown increasingly indifferent to him, and for all her responsiveness to Hugh’s ample charms, she’d never know them in full. Not the way Jim did.

“You mind if we borrow the big guy for a little while?” Blake chimed in, and for a moment she looked a little wide-eyed at the effect of their twinned charms being turned on her. Jim could sure relate. “We promise not to keep him too late.”

“Oh, he’s a big boy,” Lisa said, waving her hand at them, smiling girlishly, barely giving Jim a glance. “He can handle himself.”

“That he can,” Hugh grinned, and he and his son both turned to shoot Jim another of those grins that roiled his balls.

“You boys go have a good time,” she said, patting Hugh’s big shoulder, and then after a moment, Blake’s too. Like she was discovering the bigness, the adultness of him for the first time. She wagged a playful, mock-maternal finger at the big young stud. “Make good choices!”

“We always do, Mrs. T.,” Blake said, giving her a quick hug that brought a little flush to her cheeks that Jim hadn’t seen in quite some time.

“Nothing but the best,” Hugh said over their heads, eyes on Jim’s.

It was a quick walk across the street, not a word exchanged between them, just the companionable silence between men who knew each other well, with the pulsing heat of possibility beneath it. Jim could feel that pulsing heat inside his jeans, too, as they crossed the dark street, Hugh and Blake flanking him either side like a broad-shouldered security detail, his cock starting to stiffen with anticipation. He half-grinned to himself as he let it grow, nobody else to see it except the ones who’d inspired it.

There was a moment there in Hugh’s foyer, Blake turning back to smile at him, Hugh closing the door behind them and locking it, when he felt the full force of the two of them, like currents of electricity wrapping around him. It had been such a push-pull kind of night, the constant tug of war between his head and his heart and his cock, too. Now that the night had opened up to the three of them together, he felt unsure of what to do. Where to start. Who would make the first move. Where it all might lead.

Hugh solved the issue, his scent wrapping around Jim from behind as he stepped up close, thick fingers trailing lightly up and then in a slow circle in the small of Jim’s back. Jim shivered and felt his nipples stiffen to match his cock, letting out a soft noise that was half-sigh, half-gasp, as Blake’s grin widened.

“Hey buddy,” Hugh murmured, low and deep, his other hand squeezing Jim’s hip.

“Uncle Jim,” Blake said, his tone low and deep and almost an exact replica of his father’s husky-edged, sensual, masculine voice, as he stepped in closer too, reaching out to trace his own thick fingers down the valley between Jim’s pecs.

Jim stared down at those thick young fingers, then up to his handsome face, and then he felt Hugh’s muscular lips graze the side of his neck, deepening the long sigh flowing from his lips. All the history between them, Hugh knew all his spots, just like Jim knew his. He wondered if those same spots might inspire the same reactions in Blake. He was pretty sure he’d get the chance to find out. Thinking that just made his cock hum and his nips tingle all the more.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” Blake murmured, and it was a shock to hear those words coming from the boy he’d watched grow into the handsome man standing before him, stroking his chest. A shock, and a thrill, made even more so by Hugh’s low, rumbling, approving murmur against the side of his neck. Blake grinned a little more at that and stroked his palm over Jim’s pec, feeling up the thickness of the muscle there.

“Big guy,” the kid murmured, and Jim felt his cock spurt inside his underwear yet again, as Hugh’s big hands joined his son’s on his body, sliding slowly up and down his flanks as he nuzzled Jim’s neck.

It was a short distance from the foyer to the master bedroom, but Jim was hardly aware they’d even made the trip. All he knew was Hugh and Blake were standing there in front of him, almost identically suited, almost identical looking, big and built and handsome and turning almost identical sexy grins on him. The two men looked at each other with unmistakable affection and connection, and then turned that combination on Jim — a look Hugh had favored him with many times over the years, all that deep history between them as men and friends and lovers, too, now amplified and intensified even more with the addition of Blake’s echoing gaze.

Part of Jim wanted to step back a little from the sudden warm, erotic intensity of their twinned gaze. But instead, he squared his shoulders and looked right back at them. He had a look of his own that he favored Hugh with when it was just the two of them, man to man, and now, for the first time, he turned it on Blake as well. Big young Blake, the boy he’d watch grow with a quasi-paternal eye, into a man very much in his father’s image. It was thrilling and liberating, and just a little bit scary too, to look at the big kid that way. But they were all men now, men alone together, the hum of desire connecting the three of them.

Blake’s eyes widened a little at the look Jim gave him, but his smile widened more, giving Jim a little nod. Then he looked down at the big, straining bulge in Jim’s jeans, and nodded some more. Flicked his eyes up at Jim’s again real quick, then reached over and ran one big young hand over the fullness of Jim’s manhood, a slow, grazing caress, while his father watched on with something like pride in his eyes.

“Yeah, Uncle Jim,” Blake murmured, squeezing his thick bulge more intently now, and Jim shuddered and let out a soft grunt. He looked over to Hugh, and the simple, affectionate, encouraging way the big man rubbed up the back of Blake’s arm, to his big suited shoulder, might have been one of the sexiest things Jim had ever seen.

Jim reached out to cup the big, long bulge in Hugh’s suit pants. Hugh rumbled approvingly, pressing his hips forward, and let Jim savor the feeling of his thick, throbbing piece. Then Jim swallowed, working up his nerve, and reached over with his other hand and ran it along Blake’s near-identical suited bulge, loving the husky young man’s grunt the kid let loose.

“Definitely a chip off the ol’ block,” Jim said, thrilling to the way Blake shuddered and sighed at that, and even more to the look the father and son shot each other. There was a lot going on in that look — pride, love, affection, and an undeniable masculine heat, all backed up with a hefty throb of cock against each of Jim’s palms.

“Is he, buddy?” Hugh asked. “I guess you’d know.”

Jim fixed his best friend and fuckbud with a long, strong look as he fondled both men, reaching for their flies.

“Why don’t you see for yourself, brother?” he said, and unzipped both Burton men, father and son, together.

It was a fucking trip, holding the impressive length and girth of his fuckbuddy’s cock in one hand, his fuckbuddy’s son’s cock in the other. Both men growled lustily as Jim gave them a confident, sexy grin of his own, running a thoroughly experienced slow stroke up and down the length of them together.

“Damn, nice buddy,” Hugh growled, looking down at his son’s handsome unit, showcased in Jim’s skilful stroking hand. The pride in his voice was tangible and hot as fuck.

“You too, big guy,” Blake said huskily, his eyes locked on the sculpted piece of manflesh that had fucked him into existence.

“Told you,” Jim smirked, thumbing each of their fat, wet-tipped heads simultaneously, watching the way Blake’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth sighed, then Hugh doing the same. It was like a handjob in stereo, and he thrilled to the primal feeling of them throbbing hot and heavy in his hands. Hugh’s had been the first uncut cock he’d ever handled, but with over a decade of experience working with it under his belt — so to speak — Blake was benefiting handsomely from his skillset.

Jim already knew that the Burton men tasted the same, felt the same on his tongue, between his lips. Feeling them together was on a whole other level, though, amplified by the knowledge that he was handling a father and son together. If he’d thought about it objectively, he might not have believed this was even happening. But it was happening, alright, extremely real and extremely fucking hot, making this hot dad-son matched pair throb and hum and grunt and leak in his big paws.

Hugh reached up to squeeze his son’s shoulder again, leaving his hand there, Blake shooting his father a happy, almost grateful smile. Blake slipped his big arm around his father’s waist in return. They grinned at each other, and Jim had the sense of being invited into a moment, something deep and sacred and thoroughly bonded. It felt like a real privilege, to be allowed to share in this with them, and he aimed to show them his gratitude, thoroughly.

Hugh looked back to him, his eyes full of that mix of pleasure and warmth and affection he always had for Jim when they were alone together like this. More and more, especially tonight, that look was getting him square in his core, a flooding warmth to accent the intense sensual heat that had smoldered between them for years now. Making him feel more for this big, handsome, manly fucker than he’d felt for… shit, anyone, really. That kind of thinking could be dangerous, but tonight, here and now, it was all part of the deep intensity of the moment.

When Hugh tilted his head and leaned in close, Jim was ready for him, lips parting, and the two men connected in a heated kiss, lips meshing together, savoring each other, Blake watching them with big, hungry eyes. Jim almost couldn’t believe they were doing this — hell, any of it, but something as intimate as this, somehow the most intimate thing two men could do, all on display for the big young stud, that was another hot layer on top of everything else.

Jim growled and Hugh grunted as the big father fed him his long, thick, wet tongue, their lips and tongues smacking together noisily, a hot, deep, hungry, wet connection. Hugh cupped the fresh-cropped bristles at the base of Jim’s skull and fed him probably the best kiss he’d ever had, as Jim stroked his fat hard cock with more intent. Dimly, he could register the feeling of Blake’s free hand traveling up and down his arm, the arm that was stroking his big young cock so well, feeling the bunch and shift of the thick muscles swelling against the sleeves of Jim’s baseball T-shirt. It was an appreciative touch, almost a caress, tickling through the hairs on Jim’s wrist, up the thick corded musculature of his half-bared forearm, over the swell of his biceps, up to the rounded, bunching muscles of his beefy shoulder.

“Fuck, you two are hot together,” Blake murmured huskily. That brought Jim and Hugh up out of their kiss, wet-lipped and smiling at the kid, whose eyes volleyed back and forth between them.

“Did you two…” Hugh started, but Blake shook his head. Yeah, they’d come close, in here the other day, just the two of them — real close. But it hadn’t happened, outside of Jim’s imagination when he stroked his own fat cock afterwards. Wondering how the younger version of Hugh would feel and taste, if he’d have his father’s five-star skills with his lips and tongue. He had a hunch about it, but a hunch was no good without observable proof.

Jim looked to Blake, giving his cock a particular corkscrew stroke that in his ample experience usually got pretty good results. Blake bit his lip and groaned, low and deep, and Jim smiled. Score one for the Strokemaster, he thought, grinning inwardly at the name he’d picked up from a couple of special buds long ago, back when he was Blake’s age, a big young army grunt bored out of his mind on a backwater base in Georgia, horny as fuck, finding out who he was, what he liked to do, who he liked to do it with.

Blake’s approach was damn near identical to his father’s, right down to the angle of his head, the way his hand came up to graze Jim’s square jaw as he leaned into him, lips ripe and parted. Jim’s lips parted in response, and he licked them once, savoring the taste of the father before he tried the son. And then they were kissing, Jim and his best bud’s boy, the kid who’d grown into such a specimen of manhood, every inch the stud his father was. Every inch the kisser he was, too. Like Hugh, he was confident, using his tongue like the muscle it was, and if there was a difference in the way the Burton men Frenched, Jim was damned if he could tell.

“Fuck yeah, boys,” Hugh rumbled, and Jim bet that thrilled Blake to hear as much as it did him. He felt the big guy’s hand graze over the front of his jeans, down over the hard bulge of Jim’s cock, stroking along the length, giving it a manful squeeze, savoring the heft and throb and thickness of him like only a man could. Jim growled into Blake’s mouth, eliciting a murmur from the kid, whose big young hand traveled down from his neck, stroking over his broad back, over the solidity of his waist, cupping the rounded, muscled beef of Jim’s ass. Squeezing him there, and grunting his approval when Jim tightened his glute up, making him squeeze even harder.

Meantime, Hugh’s thick, talented fingers had worked their way to Jim’s fly, racking his belt open, popping the buttons of his Levi’s, one by one, each muffled *pop* sounding like a silenced gunshot. Jim moaned into Blake’s mouth when those long, strong fingers stroked over the bulge in his briefs, Hugh reaching into his open jeans forearm-deep to feel up his friend, searching along his ample, rigid length for the straining tip of his cock, and the thoroughly wet patch where his precum was oozing into the fabric.

Blake’s hand came up to Jim’s hip, then plunged down inside his now-loose jeans, squeezing the beefy heft of Jim’s middle-aged bubble while his father worked the front side. The three of them were a tangle of hands and arms and cocks and tongues now, as Hugh leaned in to lick swirling circles on the side of Jim’s thick neck, up to his ear.

“So glad we can share this, brother,” he murmured, and his words and the heat and the warmth in them cored all the way into Jim’s brain, down inside of him, stoking the fire in his belly and loins even more.

Usually when they were together, Hugh and Jim were very mutual with their attentions, and Hugh could swing on Jim’s fat cock with the best of them. But tonight was different. Tonight was about Jim getting to explore these two incredible specimens of stud manhood. More than that, tonight was about giving Hugh and Blake the chance to share something else they had in common — Jim. He wanted that, too — comparing them had been the single biggest thing on his mind the past couple days, ever since Blake had so boldly stepped up to him. He’d tried not to think about it, and failed miserably, repeatedly. Now he could more than just think about it, he could experience it, experience them, and Jim was a man who firmly believed in making the most of every experience he could.

It was a singular experience, having a father and son strip him of his jeans and his precum-stained briefs, the two of them taking turns to swap hungry tongues with him as they did, running big, strong, appreciative hands over the beefy musculature of his powerful thighs and ass. Jim had never considered what kind of guys Blake might be attracted to — the very notion of it would have seemed a ridiculous question up until two days ago. He might have assumed the big young jock would have gone for a guy like himself, built and ripped and beach-body-ready. So he was deeply thrilled to see the way the kid responded to Jim’s thick, mature body. He’d always been a solidly built dude, dense with muscle and beefy, even more so now that he was in middle age. He was in great shape, for sure, but he was never going back to a 30-inch waist, and that was just fine by him. He liked the way his body looked and felt, the power it had, and most of all, the way Hugh appreciated it. But Blake’s eyes drank him in, stroking over his thickset fireplug frame as avidly as his hands did, savoring the plushly muscular swells of his body. Just like his father did, and long had.

The two of them had him dripping, his own hefty cock swollen and arcing upright, smearing thick swabs of precum across his T-shirt as he dropped to his knees before them, reaching up for their belts now, undoing their near-matching suit pants, helping the fine fabric slip down over two sets of long, powerfully muscled thighs. That’s when he noticed what Blake was wearing beneath them — a pair of blue designer briefs, now mostly tucked under his hefty young balls to allow his big young cock to tower freely. A pair of briefs Jim knew quite well. After all, he’d seen a very similar man wearing them for him, more than once.

Hugh noticed at roughly the same time, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

“Damn, are those…” he said, and Blake grinned at him.

“Yep,” his boy said proudly. “I figured if I was gonna do your look, I was gonna do all of it.”

Jim and Hugh shot each other an amused glance, Hugh chuckling as he ruffled Blake’s hair.

“You little fucker,” he said. “They look good on you, though.”

“Not so little,” Blake said with a playful tilt of his chin, nodding his head down at the thick young hardon he was sporting, gleaming with precum at the rosy tip. “And that means they probably look damn fine on you too… stud.”

Hugh rumbled deep in his chest at that, the father and son giving each other an unmistakably heated look that made Jim’s balls tingle.

“And I bet they look even better on the floor,” Jim said. “Just like they do with your Dad.”

The Burton men turned those hot gazes on Jim, and he felt the power of their combined heat all the way down in his belly. He squared his shoulders, winked at them both, and tugged both their underwear down at the same time.

“Maybe you should show me what you showed my boy the other day, stud,” Hugh said to him, and fuck that was one of the sexiest things Jim had ever heard.

“Should I, big guy?” he said to Blake, who nodded with a lusty grin.

“Yeah, Uncle Jim,” Blake growled, sounding completely like his father. “Why don’t you show Dad how you sucked my cock, stud.”

Then it was Jim’s turn to let out a hungry, lusty growl. He took hold of Hugh’s big paternal cock, locked his eyes on his best bud, and showed him.

Christ, how the fuck can they even taste the same too? he wondered as his hungry mouth engulfed the fat, dripping head of Hugh’s cock whole, lashing his tongue around it as Hugh grunted with deep pleasure and took hold of his head with both hands. Jim didn’t need any help — he knew his way with this fine fucking piece of man meat, knew it nearly as well as he knew his own. He savored every note of salt and musk emanating from it, coating his tastebuds with one of his favorite flavors ever, the rich, dense scents of it filling his flaring nostrils as he lavished the manflesh with his tongue and lips and plenty of freeflowing spit.

“Fuck, yeah,” Hugh growled, stroking his head appreciatively. “He do you like this, son?”

“Damn right he did, Dad,” Blake said back, voice rich with sex and hunger, and god damn these two were driving him nuts.

Once Jim had reached that point along Hugh’s handsome curve where he knew his mouth had it under control, he moved one hand to cup the big guy’s hefty, cum-heavy balls, rolling them in his palm like he knew his buddy loved him to do. His left hand reached out and found Blake’s cock, close and hot and dripping wet, loving the gasp-grunt the big kid let out as he took him in hand and stroked him slowly while he serviced his father’s handsome piece. Looking up, he could see the Burtons standing hip to hip, suited from the waist up, naked and engorged from the waist down, each with an arm round the other’s waist. It was oddly affecting seeing them so close, the easy intimacy of a man and his boy, especially in this crazy sexual context. Affecting in all kinds of ways, and Jim could feel his cock throbbing, eager for his attention.

Up above, Blake’s free hand was tugging on his tie — his father’s tie, really — and then the buttons of his shirt, his eyes locked on what Jim was doing to his Dad. After a moment, Hugh reached across with his own free hand and started to help him with the buttons, Blake giving him a lust-hazed, grateful smile, and Jim moaned at the sight and felt like he was going to cum all over the floor. Blake returned the favor, doing that thing that Hugh did, biting the corner of his lip with concentration as he slowly undid the buttons on Hugh’s shirt. Of all the hot, intense things Jim had seen and done with them tonight, that might have been the single hottest — hell, the hottest thing he’d ever seen, period.

Their open shirts revealed the ways they were different, mostly in the thicker, middle-aged solidity of Hugh’s barrel chest, the powerful swell of his belly, the denseness of the manly fur that carpeted his big meaty pecs and rolled down over the still-prominent muscles of his stomach, down into the richer, thicker fur that crowned his cock. Blake, of course, looked ready to be on Instagram, all gym-honed young athlete musculature, carved and defined and sculpted, just a patch of hair fanning up from the deep valley between his big young pecs. They were different, but really, it was just a matter of degrees and time and maturity. A time-lapse. Two sides of the same coin. As he grew older, if he took care of himself, Hugh’s impressive body was what Blake’s could become. Jim could see him taking in the full measure of his father, of his future, and liking what he saw. What he could look forward to.

“You look good, Dad,” he murmured, a boyish note of respect in his voice, almost worshipful, as he looked at his father.

“So do you, buddy,” Hugh replied, smiling indulgently at him, squeezing his big arm a little tighter around his boy’s tight jock waist, letting his son see him looking him over, nodding as he appraised the fineness of Blake’s big young body. “So do you.”

It was a real moment, and Jim felt genuine honor at being able to witness it, strange and hot as the whole context of it was. He came slowly back up the length of Hugh’s big, vein-coursed curve, releasing the head with a pop and a slurp, teasing one last tongue-curling lick at the slit and tasting the flowing precum mingled with a thick coating of his spit. Hugh groaned aloud, rubbing the top of his head with lusty, appreciative affection.

“He tastes good too, brother,” Jim said, casting a quick smile Blake’s way before looking deep into his father’s eyes. “Your boy tastes just like you do, in fact.”

“Yeah, does he?” Hugh said, giving his son that sexy half-grin, watching his son’s face shift with pleasure as Jim gave Blake the same treatment he’d just given his dad, taking hold of his handsome young piece and sliding his lips down the thick, curved length of it.

“Aw fuck,” Blake grunted, clutching his head tight with his free hand. “Can’t believe you two have been doin’ this all this time…”

“Well maybe we can include you in now, son,” Hugh said, squeezing the back of his son’s thick neck affectionately, and Jim just moaned around the kid’s salty, throbbing length.

After another few minutes of making Blake moan and his big young thighs tense, Jim eased back on him. His jaw was starting to feel the work a little, but that was alright. All he needed was a few minutes’ break, which gave him the chance to sit back on his haunches and feel these two incredible specimens up some more. They grinned down at him, flexing their thick, long quads up for his very appreciative hands, and he favored each of them with a slow, worshipful lick up each thigh, a Burton cock in each hand, stroking them slowly. Then he looked up at them, shooting them a half-sly grin, and reached up to their outside hips, pushing them in closer together. They moved with him, nestling in tighter to each other, giving each other a quick, warm smile before turning their attentions back to him.

Jim looked back and forth between their near-identical faces, then down to their near-identical cocks, feeling the surge inside of him. Then he slowly looked back up to them as he brought the heads of their cocks together.

“Ah fuck, brother,” Hugh growled, as Blake moaned and shot his father an urgent look. Then the two of them moaned together, deep and long, as Jim leaned in and lapped the wide, wet length of his tongue slowly up the pressed-together heads of their cocks. He could just about get his lips around the heads together — almost, but that was it. He had pretty talented lips, Hugh often told him so, but they were big guys individually, and together, as much as he would have liked to, there was just no way. Not now, at least. Maybe another time, though, with more practice…

So he settled for long, languid licks of their joined cockheads, savoring the taste of them together, pushing another implied limit a little further back, savoring the way their big hands clutched at him and each other, the tensing of their muscles, the rich, resonant huskiness of their moans. He gave them the treatment for several long minutes, until their precum was flowing together in a rich, thick stream.

“No time like the present, you hot fuckers,” Jim growled, settling back on his haunches again and double-fisting them together, making their cockheads graze and glaze each other with each stroke.

“Yeah?” Hugh said, the question in his eyes as they locked with Jim’s.

“For real?” Blake asked, all horny, youthful enthusiasm. “You guys wanna… you mean, we can…”

“You think I came over here just so the two of you could watch each other fuck my face?” Jim growled, his voice thick with spit and their precum, grinning playfully as he stood up, stroking their hefty cocks all the way. Hugh grinned lustily at him, and soon Blake was mirroring him.

Jim stepped in real close, feeling their body heat radiating over him, and fed each one a deep, lusty, precum-tangy kiss in turn. First Hugh, then his son. As they kissed, Blake ran his hand down Jim’s thick flank and over the beefy, powerful swell of his ass.

“Yeah, you got the idea, son,” Jim growled, loving the way Blake’s eyes flared at that last part. “Why don’t you hot fucks get out of those suits, and let’s see what other good ideas we can come up with.”

Hugh leaned in, cupped Jim’s chin, and fed him a slow, deep kiss, a searing spit-heavy tongue-dance with a distinctly intimate, connected undertone to it. When they parted lips, Hugh rested his sweaty forehead against Jim’s and looked him deep in the eyes.

“You big hot bastard,” he rumbled. “I really… you know…”

It wasn’t like Hugh to be at a loss for words, but Jim knew what he meant. What he was feeling. Things that were hard for one man to say to another, sometimes. But that was alright. The feeling was what mattered, after all. Jim was feeling it too, and hard. He smiled at his buddy and pressed a kiss to his lips, a little softer, more intimate than lusty. For now, anyway.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmured to him. “I do too, brother.”

Hugh smiled real big at him, big and open and warm, sending that good buzz all through Jim. He smiled back at his best friend, his favorite fuckbud, the guy who’d made more of a difference to his life than anyone else ever had, then gave him a solid smack on his big, powerful ass.

“C’mon, you big hot fuck,” Jim growled. “Let’s show your big stud boy here what else he’s been missing out on.”

To be continued...

(Copyright a4ftales 2020)