Homely Temptations
Dylan:
I lay there in my chair, inhaling the scent of my dad's dirty jockstrap that covered my face. I could feel the warm sticky splattering that covered my rising and falling torso as I caught my breath that was seemingly held by my dad's scent. When I started jerking off to my dad's dirty underwear, I turned on a video on PornHub, and in my ears could hear the step-dad and son video I had turned on wrapping up. They both must have finished judging by the cheesy acting at the end that had resumed. Slowly, I pulled off the jockstrap, allowing it to fall to the floor, joining my own clothes that had been quickly discarded. Sitting up, I reached for a box of tissues on my desk, but a thought penetrated whatever after-nut clarity had formed. Instead of the box, I reached down for the driving force behind my mess and grabbed it. Admiring the usage of the jockstrap, I began to run the pouch along the now dripping lines of cum as if it were a rag. Moving it slowly, I could feel the friction of the fabric against my skin, sending a sense of electricity through my skin. The very thought that I was now rubbing myself clean with my dad's dirty jock was enough for my now limp cock to get semi-hard again.
It’s already stained, surely Dad won’t notice another one, I thought, reflecting on the observations I had made on it earlier.
Once my torso was clean, I wiped my cock along the inside of the pouch, smearing whatever cum was left on my dick on the soggy jock. Seeing my work, a sense of pride filled me, knowing that whenever Dad wore this, my cum would be in contact with his cock.
Now dry, I stood up from my chair and closed the tab that contained the video I had been listening to. It was only when I turned off my computer that I noticed my door was open and I could see slightly into the hallway. Any feelings of ecstasy, pride, and bliss drained from my body as dread set in.
What if he heard me? What if he saw me? I could have sworn I closed it all the way. Panicked, I walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway. Could I have not closed it all the way when I was too distracted trying to find where the jock went?
Looking down the hallway to the stairs, I could see no light or sound drifting from the floor below. Looking towards the other end of the hall, I could see faintly in the darkness that my dad's room door is slightly ajar with faint nondescript sounds emanating from the room. Anxiety and a sense of panic begin to overwhelm my senses as I duck back inside my room, wondering if he could have seen me. Glancing at the damp jockstrap, I snatch a pair of sweatpants and hastily pull them on. Balling the jock up so that the wetness of my wiped cum was not as visible, I quietly entered the hallway and began to make my way to my father's room.
As I approached the door, I could begin to make out what seemed to be rhythmic sounds of something hitting something softer mixed with what almost sounded like muffled groans. Upon reaching the door, I leaned against the doorframe and peering through, I could just see the half of the dark outline of my father's room. Silently, I pushed open the door just enough that I could poke my head around and see the entire room. Ahead of me, my dad lay nude on the bed, his feet sturdily planted to the floor. His bare ass pointed in my direction as it moved back and forth in a humping motion. With my head now fully inside the room, I could hear the squelching sound of a rubber fleshlight stuffed against a pillow that was gripped by my father's large body being ferociously used. His large balls hung from his body, the hair on them slick with sweat, lube, and precum as they hit against the rim of the fleshlight with each thrust. Each thrust was powerful enough to make my own legs quiver, seeing the strength and passion behind each movement performed by this lewd sculpture in front of me. His monster cock, slightly obscured from my view, partially curved in and out of the rubber hole as the toy seemed to struggle to take his full length. Standing there in the doorway, I had forgotten why I was here, the scene in front of me having taken my attention, and any feelings of worry or dread inside my body were replaced with a renewed feeling of lust and admiration for my father. Each thrust of his hips resulted in a sweet-sounding squelch that filled the room, which was matched by an equally erotic grunt or groan. At this moment, my father seemed less like my father but more like a wild bull built for breeding. Getting lost in the admiration of my father, I was snapped out of my lustful trance as I heard him speak.
His voice was muffled, and I wasn’t sure what he said, but I could make out the words “All mine.”
Whose his? I thought, shaken to the core of my being. Who is he thinking about?
Again, his muffled deep voice spoke out, “My personal cocksleeve made for your daddy's cock.”
A jolt was sent through my body, ending at my cock that twitched against the fabric of my pants. The very idea of being his cocksleeve was a source of a fantasy for me. Jealousy filled my entire being, jealousy of whoever my dad thought about, jealousy of how it should be me.
His pace quickened, the entire bed seemed to shake with the force of his thrusts as muffled growls and groans seemed to cascade out of him like a waterfall.
More, don't stop, show me more, I thought, watching my father fuck the toy, forced to dream that it was me and not someone else who didn’t deserve my father's imagination.
Someone's name seemed to tumble from his lips in a way that seemed so desperate, as if he was dying of thirst and that person was a river. His body tightened and sized and his large balls seemed to compress as he came. I could see the cum fill the toy, the cum that made me, the cum that I fantasized about, leak from the hole as he continued to fuck it. My father's labored breaths had his strong back rise and fall, his head never lifting from the pillow that he clung to. Once his thrusts had come to an end, he pulled his hips back one last time, unsheathing himself from the rubber toy that fell to the floor, discarded after being brutally used.
Stepping back, I expected him to get up, but to my surprise, he just lay there. His massive cock, aimed downwards towards the floor, was almost seven to eight inches in size, and girthy enough to stretch any hole. It started to fall limp with a dangling string of cum that stuck to the end of the bed. His breath, calmer and less labored, seemed to fall into a rhythmic cycle and stayed that way over the course of a couple of minutes.
Waiting at the door for about ten minutes, I heard the sound of his quiet snores, signifying he was asleep. My cock, still rock hard even after such a jerk off session before and a wait that felt like hours seemed to lead my way before my brain could. As quietly and hushed as I could, I entered his room, scanning the darkness for a place to stash the jockstrap. With my eyes adjusted to the dark, I found a small space beneath a dresser and shoved the jockstrap underneath with enough of the band sticking out so my dad wouldn’t think it ever left his room, but rather he just somehow missed it.
As I tiptoed back to the door, the fleshlight that he had been using caught my eye. Sneaking over to the foot of the bed, I only had a moment of hesitation before crouching down and inspecting it. Holding it up, I could see that it had been ripped in two, no three places, with the third rip looking newer. Around the rim of the hole, cum lay semi-disturbed where it had oozed out of the hole. I tried to look inside but found that it was too dark in the room to make out any meaningful detail, but I knew that the inside must be filled with my father's seed. Looking up from the toy, I could see my father's semi-hard cock in front of me, tempting me with a promise of a trail of cum. Leaning forward, I could smell the musky aroma of his impressive manhood, the sweat of his balls complementing the saltiness of the spent cock. I wanted to reach forward and touch it. TO do my duty as his son to clean it and worship it, but I knew that would be too far, and if it were to wake him up, then I wouldn’t be sure how to explain my actions, not that I already could explain being in his room with his fleshlight in hand. Retreating from the source of my temptations, I redirected my attention to the rubber hole, the hole I knew was oozing with my father's seed.
Slowly I lifted the toy to my mouth, tempted to know what he tastes like, tempted to let the intrusive thoughts that besieged my foundational common sense that I shouldn’t do this, that it isn’t proper, what if he wakes up at catches me- that thought however broke through as a part of me hoped that he did, that he caught me, his son, feasting on his spent seed.
Just a taste then, a small one, I thought to myself, if to force myself to actually do it.
Tentatively, I dragged my finger along the damaged rim of the hole, gliding my finger across the slick rubber. The feeling of sticky warmth clung to my finger as if it were calling out to me. Bringing the warmth that stuck to my finger to my lips, I hesitantly opened them and allowed my finger to slip in. A light saltiness seemed to coat my tongue and teeth, slick yet had a unique consistency to it as I sucked on my finger to savor the taste as if it were a lollipop. Removing my now clean finger from my mouth was like slamming a wrecking ball into an already fragile dam. Any inhibition I had melted away as I brought the fake hole to my mouth, leaning my head back. Opening my mouth to the hole, I could feel the salty nectar inside begin to drip into my waiting mouth. I could feel the cum on the rim of the hole sticking around the outside of my mouth, but at this point I couldn’t care less. Sticking my tongue into the ripped hole, I began to coax my father's thick seed into my mouth. I could feel and taste the salty fluid coating my tongue as if it were giving me a perverted hug. This powerful taste, I could worship it, I could devote my being to this taste, this sensation, to my father.
More, I need more, I thought as a newfound hunger from the pit of my stomach seized control of my body. This seed was mine, not whatever person my dad fantasized about; at this moment, it was mine.
Sitting back on my knees, I spread my legs open so I could lean back further, so more of the salty honey could enter my awaiting mouth. Tapping the end of the fleshlight to get more to move, I maneuvered my tongue as if I were just a dog lapping up water on a hot summer day. As if I were a bear trying to get at honey in a hive, and needed a sweet treat to keep going. Tasting my father's cum, the seed that made me now in my mouth was a dream come to life for me. Savoring and swallowing the cum, I devoured the hole until it was nearly clean, till only the most stubborn bits remained as if to tempt me further. I licked the rim of the toy clean as if it were a spatula with remaining cookie dough on it, making sure that any amount I could reach passed by my tongue and was savored. Upon feeling satisfied with my job cleaning my dad's toy like a good son should do, I placed the Fleshlight back where it had fallen so that he hopefully wouldn't suspect anything. Standing up, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, cleaning it off to remove any evidence that might have stuck to my face.
Silently closing my father's door and retreating back to my room, a sense of disbelief overwhelmed me.
I can’t believe I just did that, oh my gods, oh my gods, I thought, panicked. Who was he thinking about? Clearly, he didn’t see me if he was doing this the entire time. I shuddered at that thought.
Stripping off my pants, I crawled into bed and allowed my thoughts to uncontrollably bounce around my head. Desperate for an understanding or an explanation of who he was thinking about, and why I did what I did with his discarded toy. However, I knew one thing for certain, that whoever he called out for should be me, and I knew I had to do something to get him to bring his gaze towards me.
What sort of son would I be if I let him go back to that ripped fake hole, I thought. So with thoughts of my dad's cock, the powerful taste of his cock still dancing around my mouth, the smell of his balls and used underwear etched into my nose, and a hardened cock between my legs, I let sleep take me eventually, where I know in my dreams at least, my father will be waiting for me.
Michael:
The beeping of my morning alarm wakes me unpleasantly. Disturbed, I rose from my position that cradled the pillow I aggressively held last night. At some point, I must’ve pulled myself up onto the bed, but my head couldn't remember as the fog of sleep still obscured any clear thought. Slowly getting up from my bed, I stumbled over to my connected bathroom, turning on the light and looking at the disheveled mess in the mirror.
As I began to brush my teeth, and it wasn’t till I was washing, finishing up by swishing mouthwash in my mouth, that I remembered the discarded Fleshlight I had left on the floor. After spitting the mouthwash out and wiping my mouth dry with a towel I walked over to where I remember leaving it at the foot of my bed. Picking it up, I brought it back over to my sink, ready to wash it out and make it clean again for use some other time but to my surprise when looking at it I noticed it was noticeably clean. I had expected to see residue after last night's activities, but not this little. As I examined the toy, trying to puzzle together what could’ve happened I spotted something of interest in the mirror out of the corner of my eye. Wedged underneath my dresser, slightly out of view, was my jockstrap that my son's face buried into last night.
A sudden and partially scary thought entered my mind: could he have caught me just like I caught him? He definitely was in here, so could he have washed out the Fleshlight?
No. I thought I would have heard the water from the sink running, and why would he even do that?
Absurd scenarios buzzed through my head as I washed what remained in the fleshlight out, trying to make sense of the unusual situation. Ideas ranging from him replacing it with a new toy to I might have sleep-cleaned it, and my son had nothing to do with this. However, as I walked over to grab my underwear from under the dresser, I settled on a single conclusion. He must've messed around with the toy himself; either he fucked it, which didn’t seem as likely, or he found a savory treat last night to enjoy.
That dirty freak of a perv, I thought, a rumbly chuckle escaping my smiling lips. So the brat thinks he can get away with peeping on me and using my scent as he pleases? Maybe it’s time to teach him a fatherly lesson.
Forgoing any clothing, I pulled the jockstrap on, allowing it to snuggly cradle my package and emphasize my ass. Remembering what my son had used for a newfound feeling of comfort was associated with this particular tattered garment, despite the misuse my son had done without my permission. After pulling on some tight workout shorts, not want it to be too obvious that I know that he knows. Exiting my room, I made sure to make enough sound walking down the hallways and stairs to possibly rouse my son up so that he would wake up this morning. Upon making it to the kitchen, I grabbed an apron stored in a cupboard and tied it tight to accentuate my chest. I then began to make preparations for making breakfast, being just loud enough that would wake Dylan up without being overtly obvious.
So my son thinks it's okay to play with his father's stuff without permission, huh? A grin formed as the devious thought returned to me. Well, perhaps a punishment is in order.
Dylan:
I turned over again in my bed, hearing my father clatter pans together downstairs in the kitchen. I had faintly heard him stomping past my room a few minutes earlier and tried to get back to sleep, but the commotion downstairs seemed only to continue.
With a grunt, knowing that I probably won’t be able to go back to sleep, I sit up, stretching my arms up and smacking my lips. The taste of my father from the previous night still seemed to sit on them, the taste now seemingly a part of them. Getting up with my eyes still mostly closed I pull on my old pair of sweats and walk out of my room to go take a shower downstairs. Stumbling downstairs, I walk past my dad, who I hear is mixing something in a bowl, the sound of a whisk moving back and forth while some music plays.
“You’re loud, you know that?” I say, my eyes locked forward so I know where I am going.
I hear him laugh, “mornin' kiddo!” Earning a grunt in response from me, which he seemingly accepts before going back to whisking.
Stepping into the bathroom, I undress, turn on the water, and wait till it is warm enough. Once it is, I step in and allow the hot water to take me into a warm, liquid embrace. As I wash myself, I replay yesterday's events in my mind. Seeing my dad in a skin-tight Speedo, getting off to the thought of him twice, and even tasting his cum from a toy that he used while thinking of me. The last thought still seemed insane to me, like I had imagined it because that’s what I wanted. No matter how many profiles I had skimmed on hookup apps, trying to find someone who could quench my thirst for someone like him, I could never find the right match. None of them was him, and the fact that he could want me, his son, seemed unreal.
After minutes that seemed like hours trying to wrap my head around everything, I stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off, allowing the towel to fall to the floor. Grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste, a small part of me was sad for the salty taste of my father to be replaced with the fresh minty taste of the toothpaste, but I knew if he had somehow smelled it on me, it could be worse.
Although it is possible he knows? I thought, pondering his knowledge of my dubious acts regarding his used items. Could he have noticed that his Fleshlight should have been dirtier?
A small stab of jealousy at the rubber toy entered my heart. It was just a toy after all, I used them occasionally, so why did I feel jealous of a toy? And what about the person he thought of? Who were they? After rinsing my mouth off, I quickly styled my hair, applied deodorant, and picked up the towel, realizing I didn’t have a fresh change of clothes. Bundling up my sweatpants in one hand and holding the towel with my other hand knew that I would be walking past my father.
I should give him a show, I thought. That would hopefully distract his gaze from me.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I walked into the living room connected to the adjoining dining and kitchen, with the delightful smell of pancakes filling the air.
“Something smells good, Dad,” I say, turning to where the kitchen bar is. Any words that I was about to say regarding the smell seem to dissipate into thin air. There in an apron is my dad, shirtless. His arms and chest were seemingly amplified by the tight apron tied around his front.
“Thanks, Dyl, chocolate chips just the way you like them.” He says, sliding three freshly made pancakes onto a plate before turning around to bring his attention back to the stove. His back, as strong and wide as ever, is almost as distracting as the red and black band of his underwear peaking out of the back of his tight shorts that I remember him wearing when he worked out.
He’s wearing the underwear I jerked off to yesterday. The thought sent a jolt of electric excitement down my spine, knowing what I had done with it.
Resolving my strength and confidence to give my father a show, I decided to forgo going upstairs to get into clothes, but rather sat on the stool at the bar. Letting the towel drop low enough on my lap to where everything was properly covered, but still showed off the slight happy trail I had, as if to tease him.
Grabbing the plate, I pull it closer to me and reach for the bottle of maple syrup on the bar counter. Dad turns around, sliding a napkin to me and places a fork and knife next to me as I see his eyes flick around my body, taking the view meant for him in.
Just as planned.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” He says, flipping an additional couple of pancakes with a spatula. “I just had a sudden craving for pancakes.”
A feeling like there was an enunciation on the cake part of the word pancakes bubbled up in my brain, but I ignored it. “You might have, but I don’t mind if this is how you pay me back,” I say, stabbing into my stack of food, freshly flooded with the proper amount of sweet sticky maple syrup.
“Got any plans today?” Dad says as he lifts the apron over his head, showing me a pristine view of his hairy armpits. Once the apron is removed, I'm met with the view of my father's torso, a large chest connected to a comfortable belly.
“Uhh,” I stammer, shaking off the hypnosis that just his upper body seemed to have placed on me. “Not really, thinking about taking another dip in the pool or possibly sunbathing. What about you?” I say, trying to shift the focus off me.
“Work.” He laughs before biting into a large chunk of food impaled on his fork. “Should be home around seven or so, so if there is anything for dinner you want, let me know.”
We continued to eat, discussing the movie we watched last night, what we thought of the acting and plot. The conversation shifted over time, ranging from more stories of my time in the dorms to his work stories working with ultra-wealthy clients. As we finished up, my dad asked if I could do the dishes, as seeing me reminded him that he should probably take a quick shower. Watching him walk up the stairs, I let out a sigh. Surely, he didn’t suspect anything, nor was he acting outwardly different towards me. With a sigh, I turned on the sink and got to work in the kitchen, cleaning with nothing but my towel around me.
After the dishes were all washed and in the process of drying, I retreated back to my room and got dressed for the day, although choosing to wear a tight shirt and shorts following in the footsteps of my father's workout shorts. As I scrolled through my phone, spectating my friends' and strangers' lives on social media, I heard my father shout my name from down the hall. Walking down toward his room, I heard him call me again from inside.
“Dyl! Dylan!” He shouted, his voice carrying through the door to his room that was slightly ajar just like last night.
“Yeah, Dad?” I responded, standing outside, wondering what he needed.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, “I forgot to bring a fresh towel. Could you bring one from the hallway closest to me?”
“Sure!” I responded, opening the closest door where we kept various housekeeping supplies, towels, and tissue boxes. Grabbing the requested towel, I pushed his bedroom door open. Upon entering, I could see his work clothes lying across the bed, and included among them the jockstrap I had gotten off of last night and the one he wore this morning.
Maybe he doesn't know why he would wear that if he knew. Unless… I thought, before shaking it off.
Heading to the bathroom door, which was closed, I knocked to alert him I was here, waiting. I was expecting a hand to reach out and grab it, but instead he called out, “Come in, it's unlocked.”
Pushing the door open, steam flooded out of the door, escaping into the relatively cooler air. Peering inside the bathroom, the mirror was all fogged up, my father's workout shorts discarded on the floor, and standing fully exposed in the shower was my dripping wet father.
“Here, Dad,” I stammered as I failed to rip my eyes away from the sight of his body in front of me. His body hair, perfectly soaked to coat his body in hair in all the right places, with his limp cock, still massive, it hung between his legs, glistening wet and perfectly haloed by the set of large balls behind it. Streaks of water curve around his arms and thighs, and water droplets dripped from the overhang of his chest onto his belly or down onto the base of the bathtub bottom of the shower.
“Thanks, son, appreciate it,” He said, his rough, large hands gently taking the towel from and beginning to dry his hair.
“No problem,” I say, confidence returning to my voice. “Lemme know if there's anything else you might need from me before you leave.”
Painstakingly, I turn around and exit the steamy bathroom, hoping that the redness on my cheeks could be explained by the heat and humidity of the room. Finding refuge back in the hallway, a small competitive thought inside me came up, knowing that I had to put on more of a show for my father to get his attention, the way he just got mine.
Knowing that he would be leaving soon, I went downstairs, filled a glass with water, and intentionally spilled half the water in the walkway in hopes that it looked like I accidentally spilled while bringing water back up to my room. Setting the glass down next to the spill, I grabbed a hand towel from a kitchen drawer and placed myself into position. I waited for a couple of minutes before I heard my dad's footsteps begin to come down the staircase, and I sprang into action. Kneeling on the floor, I angled my ass upwards and towards the direction he would come.
If my dad wants a cocksleeve, he's going to have to see what I can offer first. The thought caused me to wonder why I felt so aggressive about him thinking about another person? It felt almost wrong the way I felt, but the thought that my father would be with anyone else was even worse.
Hearing him stop behind me, I could feel his gaze on my ass, held by my pair of tight shorts to give him a perfect view.
He seemingly hesitated for a second, watching me slowly clean up my fake mess before clearing his throat and saying, “What happened? Is everything alright?”
“Oh?” Feigning innocence, “Yeah, I just spilled water by accident.” I said with no big emotion invested in it.
“Alright, be a bit more careful next time, don't want you accidentally dropping glass and getting hurt." He said with some level of concern as he walked past me towards the door.
“Yeah, that would be bad, thankfully I didn’t this time,” I said as I watched him put on his shoes in the front doorway. “Have a good day at work today, Dad, and be safe as well.”
He grinned and let out a small laugh that caused my heart to flutter. “Will do, bud, I’ll see you tonight and lemme know if you need anything.”
I nodded my head as he grabbed his keys and wallet from a table next to the door. He opened the door, but stopped in the doorframe and turned around, walking back towards me.
“Dyl, I wanted to say,” He started, before hesitating and finishing with, “I’m glad you're home. It wasn't the same without you.” His large hand fell onto my shoulder with two solid pats before he turned back around and left, closing the door.
Spending my day relaxing by taking another dip in the pool when it got really hot out, sunbathing in the hot afternoon sun, then catching up on missed shows as the sun began to set, was something I desperately needed. I had lost track of the time as I was sitting on the couch, wearing nothing, while running a massage roller along the back of my shoulder, trying to massage out a knot I got from doing laps in the pool previously. A show I had put on, nearly obscured the noise of my father's car rolling into the driveway. Quickly, I dropped the massager and pulled on a nearby t-shirt and underwear to slightly cover up before my dad entered the house. Hearing the door creak open, I hear the clattering of keys hit the table and my father stumbling to remove his work boots.
His deep voice greeted me, himself hidden from my view, “Hey, son, I’m home.”
“Welcome home, Dad. How was work?” I responded, grabbing the dropped massager and rubbing it against the knot again.
My dad responded with a grunt of indifference, “It was alright, clients are picky as always.”
I heard him enter the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, he said, “Have you eaten already?”
“Not yet,” I responded, pushing harder on the tense tissue. “I was waiting for you to get home.”
“How considerate of you Dyl,” His voice seemed affectionate rather than condescending. “How about leftover pizza? Sounds good?” The sound of a cardboard pizza box hitting the counter seemingly answers his own question.
“Yeah, that works,” I say, head rolling as the massager finds the right place, causing a small moan to escape my lips.
“You alright?” Dad says, his footfalls walking over to me. Turning, I finally direct my attention to him instead of having my eyes closed or glued to the television. He’s wearing a dirty white long-sleeved shirt that hugs his arms, resulting in his large forearms and biceps popping out of the clothing. His chest, powerful and large, is almost as distracting as his paint-stained jeans, which delectably squeeze his thighs and crotch area, promoting even a slight bulge despite the heavy material. Noticeably, he’s still wearing his utility belt, containing a variety of tools and pouches within reach. His hair is slightly slick alongside his forehead, probably sweat from working all day with one of his large, rough hands holding a basically empty glass of water.
“Yeah, sorry,” I said, glancing at his enthralling figure once-over. “I think I worked my shoulder a little too hard in the pool today, and it's feeling a little tense.
“How about after dinner, I can help rub it out. A massager can only do so much, you know.” He states, motioning to the one I currently hold.
“Sounds nice, Dad, I could really use it,” I say, getting up, not caring enough that my shirt isn't long enough to cover all of my underwear, rather it just meets it along my waistline so my underwear is on full display.
“How about I go upstairs and put on some pants so we can eat,” I say, hoping to bring his attention to my appearance and half hoping that he doesn’t mind me staying like this.
“It’s alright,” He dismisses, his gaze lingering on me as if I were some tool of his he was deciding what to do with. “We can eat now, after all, we’re both guys. And you’ve definitely seen more of me!” He laughs, refilling his glass of water.
With a shrug and a muttered, “Alright then,” I sit at the familiar bar again and open yesterday's pizza box to grab a slice. Dad slides his water next to me and walks over, sitting on the stool next to me. Even from this distance, I can smell the intoxicating smell of his musk. A long day of work being battled out with some nice smelling deodorant makes my nose feel like it's fallen under an enchantment like snow white and her poison apple.
“I don’t work again tomorrow, the client made some last-minute adjustments again, and we have to wait a whole day until the new tiles they wanted can arrive. And we can’t continue till they do arrive, so we’re backed up a day. But they still are paying us for an extra day!” My dad laughs, raising his cup, granting me a strong view of his large bicep, cheering the open air. “So I was thinking, possibly we can go on a hike in the morning before it gets too hot out, and then go out someplace for lunch?”
“That sounds fun,” I responded, making eye contact with my father, his green-hazel eyes seemingly piercing my soul. “What time did you wanna get up then?”
“I was thinking seven? Since it takes an hour to get there. That way we can hike for three hours, and an hour back just in time for lunch.” Dad says, not breaking eye contact with me as he finishes his sentence with a bite of cold pizza.
“Alright, but you might have to drag me out of bed. One thing college does have going for it is that you don’t need to be up first thing in the morning.” I say, being the one to break eye contact before any pink from blushing might appear on my cheeks as I focus on eating my slices of pizza.
Dad laughs, “Well you were up earlier today.”
“That's because someone is louder than an elephant on bubble wrap!” I exclaim, taken aback by the audacity of my father, I lightly push his shoulder.
I regretted it the second after I did that, as I could feel his eyes laser in on me with the same audacity I felt. Before I knew what was happening, I felt my stool be pulled with a loud screech closer to his and a beefy arm wrapped around my head. My face pushed directly into my dad's warm, musky pits as he put me into a headlock. Before I could stop myself, I inhaled sharply, trying to have his scent fill my lungs as if that's what they were made for rather than air. A second later, I realized my exposure, and quickly faked trying to hold my breath and struggled relentlessly against my father's strong arm, knowing that I wasn’t going anywhere, comparing my strength to his. He laughed as I felt his knuckles grind against my scalp before relaxing his hold on me to my disappointment. Allowing myself to get one last breath of him in, I stayed there for a split second, then pulled back.
“Well then, maybe next time I won’t make pancakes. Just cold old cereal if I need to be quieter.” He says, grinning a devilish smile.
“Threatening a decent breakfast now? That’s what you resort to?” I laugh, “Now that’s just cruel.”
Once we had finished dinner, my dad brought me over to the couch and instructed me to lie down in a firm voice. I shiver was sent down my spine, allowing his commanding voice and presence to take over me, and I did as he said. Laying face first into the couch, I felt his body weight above my legs as the couch squeaked with the newly added weight. I felt him shift forward ever so slightly until he was positioned right below my ass.
“Where are you feeling tense?” Dad asked, his voice firm yet caring.
“Right around here,” I responded, stretching an arm to show a general area.
I felt him shift again as he leaned forward onto me, one of his large hands planting itself right next to my head, the other beginning to apply pressure on the place between my back between shoulder and neck. A small moan escaped my lips as his hand slowly rubbed and pushed the firm spot, my eyes rolling back under my closed eyelids.
“Right there? Feel good?” He said, his voice lower and closer to my ear. I could feel the heat of his breath and could smell his scent ever so faintly dancing in my nose.
“Mmm, yeah, right there, Dad,” I mumbled, “Your hand feels so good.”
“I’m glad. I wanna make sure my baby boy feels good.” He whispered as I felt him apply more of his body weight on me. I thought I could feel something different about the weight he put on me but any curiosity was pushed out of me as his hand shifted direction, causing me to groan in relief.
“Think you could take your shirt off?” He said, my eyes shooting open in shock. “I think I could get it even more without the fabric in the way.
“Yeah, I can, no problem,” I said, trying to take off my shirt without seeming too eager to do so. He helped me remove it, and once it was fully removed, I heard him strongly inhale. As if he were trying to refrain from touching something, using something he shouldn’t.
His hands returned to their previous places as he began to massage my bare skin this time. I could feel the textures of his palm when he used it, the strength of his knuckles, and the firmness of his wrist, which were all responsible for the series of stifled moans I let out as if trying to bait him with a forbidden fruit.
He continued for what seemed like hours yet felt only like seconds, his hand taking care of my shoulder. He eventually moved his hand downwards, allowing his other hand to join in the message as he rubbed along my back, traveling further and further down. Eventually, he was low enough that I could feel him at my ass, his hands hesitating as if there was a magnetic boundary around it, as they were only brave enough to venture an inch below the seam. Despite my mumbles of approval, I felt him work his way back up my back, moving slower this time as if he was sad to leave my lower area or possibly just making sure every square inch was properly smoothed out and relaxed. By the time he got to the nape of my neck, I could feel the warmth and weight of his body virtually on top of mine, his thighs straddling my ass. And what could very well be my imagination, I could swear that I felt something against the crack of my ass. Something hard.
With one final motion, my father grunted and said, “How are you feeling now, son?”
“Good, really good, Dad. I didn’t realize you were so good at that.” I responded, half moving to sit up and half moving to see if what I thought was there was there.
However, my father seemed quicker than I as he pulled away, my bottom pushing into nothing but air. “I’m glad,” He said before standing, “Well, I've got some work I need to do before bed, and we've got to get up early anyway. See you in the mornin' son.”
And with that, I watched my father walk away up the stairs, hiding his face from me. I sighed with disappointment, not being able to tell for certain if what I thought was there was there, but I decided to sink into my possible delusion that it was there, and my teasing was working.
Michael:
Undressing, I leave my clothes bundled on the floor of my closet, taking special care to leave the jockstrap my son had cummed on at the top of the pile, just in case my son decided to snoop around my room again, he would at least leave me a little treat.
Although an action like that deserves to be punished, I thought of allowing a chuckle to escape my lips. I wonder what a punishment like that would be? Possibly digging out the old leather outfit I had stored away, buying a whip, and striking him with it. Or possibly this incursion just deserved a good spanking while I had him bent over my knee.
Thinking about all the things I could do to my son, I pushed open the semi-closed door to my bathroom. The thoughts in my mind certainly didn’t help the already raging stiffness in my pants due to massaging my son earlier. Thinking a cold shower would be a good idea, I was about to turn on the water to the shower before I remembered Dylan's reaction to being shoved in my pit.
He definitely stayed there longer than I held him, not by much, though, I pondered, wondering what he might like. No shower tonight, I shouldn’t reward his secretive behaviour, but he has been looking extra delectable recently. Reminding myself of how I saw him in just a towel this morning and during dinner wearing just underwear and a shirt, causing my cock to twitch at the memory.
Well, I guess I can handle this hard-on the other way, I thought as I lay down on my bed.
Spitting on my hand for some form of lubrication, not wanting to pull mine out of my nightstand drawer, I began to stroke my cock slowly. Swirling the tip of my cock with my thumb, I imagined that it was Dylan's tongue instead, worshiping my tip in a way all good sons should. His hazel eyes met mine as he did so, with my hand on his head showing that I was there to support him as any father should. But all good fathers know when to give their son an extra push. Imagining my hand pushing down Dylan's head further down onto my cock. My hand gliding up and down my cock, miming where my son's mouth should be as if it were an object of worship. I could see my hand gripping onto his black hair, pushing him further, to see him have no choice but to breathe in my cock. Pulling his head back up, my hand moved back to the tip of my cock, then back down again, sending shivers of pleasure throughout my body. My hand moved up and down in place for my son's mouth. I thought about the begging I would make my son do, the begging for his father to take care of him. I could almost feel his hands exploring my body, touching my chest and arms, or cupping my balls and rubbing my thighs. My mind wandered to him kneeling in front of me, with one foot applying pressure on his cock and another being cleaned by his tongue. My body trembled at the thought of my son properly respecting me, his father. Continuing to stroke my cock I series of low groans escaped my lips as my imagination began to shift to something new. Dylan lay face down across my bed, limbs spread out with his ass pointing towards me.
“Please, Daddy, I feel so empty, and I need my father to make me feel full,” My fantasy said. My son shifted to look at me, his hard cock now peeking out from his figure dripping with precum onto my dirty jockstrap beneath them.
“Don’t worry, kiddo, daddy's here, and he is going to take such good care of you,” I whisper, crawling on top of him.
I line my cock up with his hole as I slowly enter my son, feeling the tight ring of muscle give way to allow my large cock to connect father and son in a way that brings such pure bliss. A moan escapes his lips, such a beautiful moan. I realized I must savor it, to capture it, to claim it. I bring my mouth to his, connecting our lips in a fit of passion. Deeply, I kiss him, feeling him melt beneath me as I begin to thrust in a slow, rhythmic fashion. I could feel his tongue pressing against my lips, as if knocking on a door awaiting permission to come in. Rather than just opening the door, I throw it open and push right into him. Shoving my tongue into his mouth, it intertwines with his, in a similar way my body intertwines with his. As if we were two pieces of a puzzle, meant to be together. The rate of my thrusts increases, choosing to believe that it’s my son's tight hole rather than just my hand.
I imagine one of my hands wrapping his cock in an attempt to milk him, to show him how much I care for him. While in contrast, to punish him for his intrusiveness and stealing my underwear my other hand strikes his perfect ass, leaving behind my mark. I could hear him call out for me in my head, his cries for his daddy, for me. For someone who could make him feel whole and cared for, in a way only a father could.
My heartbeat picked up pace, driving me insane with pleasure and frustration, knowing that it wasn’t my son taking care of me, but the thought of him was. Another fantasy filled my mind, one where I had just gotten home from a long day at work, and there Dylan stood in the living room wearing nothing but blue lingerie. I clicked my tongue, and immediately he moved towards me as I raised my arm. His face, perfectly fitting into my unwashed pit, I could hear him inhale deeply.
“Clean,” I ordered with a grunt, grabbing his head and keeping it in place.
I felt his tongue gliding along the inside of my pit, washing my sweaty hair and skin with his saliva. I could imagine him planting kisses as he traveled in my pit, him eagerly showing his devotion to me.
“Good boy,” I murmured, feeling his cock twitch against my leg, pulling his face away so I could stare at his beautiful face.
My fantasy drifted away from a single scenario to a life instead. One where we were together, father and son, heart and soul, body and mind. We would spend days together wearing nothing except the occasional piece of stained underwear or seductive lingerie. Him collared and leashed to me, or bound to my- no, our bed in ways that felt like a painting. Thoughts of getting into all sorts of trouble together, getting into promiscuous activities in public. Such a beautiful life where we, as lovers, as father and son, embrace one another in ways that could make even the gods jealous.
A final thought entered my mind, one I could feel would send me over the edge and break the dam. A single sentence spoken by my son, my Dylan, covered in my cum, filled my mind, “I love you, daddy, I’m utterly and eternally yours.” My dam broke, cum shooting upwards and painting my belly and chest with thick, hot cum. My mind went blank with pure ecstasy as I felt some of the ropes of seed hit my face as my body shuddered. I lay there in bliss, covered in my own cum that stuck to my body and facial hair, with my hand still wrapped around the length of cock. I could feel the cum slowly dripping down my length, catching on my hand. With labored breath, I gave in to a moment of curiosity as I released my grip on my cock, and a sense of emptiness filled me, missing the touch already. Bringing the cum covered hand to my lips, I slowly licked it, wondering what Dylan found so interesting about my cum. I tasted salty, a saltiness that wasn’t unwelcome but left a curious taste.
I’m sure Dylan tastes better, I thought, allowing a small smile to form, thinking about what that would entail. Realizing that I had nothing available to clean up with, I stood quickly, not wanting the cum to drip onto the bedsheets. A devious idea formed in my mind, which had me walking to where Dylan's laundry basket awaited. I never did have time to do the laundry that I said I would have the other day, as the distraction of my son jerking off to my scent took over my priorities. Reaching into the basket, I pull out one of Dylan's underwear. I wipe my face first with the front of my son's briefs, trying to wipe out the cum from my beard. Moving down, I wipe down my neck and rub my chest clean of cum. Switching to a different part of the fabric to not spread the already removed cum along my body, I move down lower, amongst my torso. Finally, I wrap the inside of the blue briefs around my semi-hard cock, allowing my spent seed to be hugged by the inside fabric.
Once fully clean, I drop the used piece of underwear on the top of the laundry. Satisfied knowing that like father like son, I could also make a mess of his underwear, I lay down on my bed. As I lay there, waiting for sleep to claim me, I allowed myself to think of hints I could give my son, to tempt and tease him till he broke and begged for me to make him mine.
NOTES:
Hi all! Thanks for all the positive interaction with the first chapter, it really makes my day seeing your all's enjoyment! I have gotten some questions about the length of this story, and I wanted to share that I plan to write around 10(ish) chapters. But if the plot allows it, and I feel like there is enough support for the story to keep my motivation up, I think there is always a way for this story to go even longer!
I will say, this chapter was supposed to be even LONGER than it is currently, and I knew if that were the case, it would be a while before this chapter would be published. So I'm including the second half of this chapter and putting it into chapter 3 and having that chapter be longer as well. Although that may push the latter half of chapter 3 into chapter 4 and so on... I don't know, honestly, but hey! More time with the characters! This chapter definitely has less smut (but still some, don't worry) than chapter 1, but I plan on making that up to you in future chapters, where there will be some that will be incredibly smut-heavy. Again, I do not have a proofreader, and this chapter underwent many revisions, so if you see any spelling/grammar or weird sentences that might have slipped through the cracks... No, you didn't.
As always, feel free to leave comments, kudos, and whatnots. It really helps keep my motivation up when writing these chapters, as I love providing something you all can enjoy. Whether it's “fantasy” material or just good ol’ fashioned smut to read, I'm happy to provide. As always, my email is [email protected] for any private comments, requests, and/or questions. Anyways, my like-minded taboo father/son lovers, enjoy chapter two! <3
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