I never got along with my dad, Pablo. We hated each other's guts, and I'd seriously considered cutting ties just to escape the poison he brought into my life. Our fights were brutal, leaving Mom heartbroken every time. I'm Javier, eighteen years old, and aside from that mess, everything else was golden. I had a smoking hot girlfriend who couldn't keep her hands off me, I was popular as hell with a huge circle of friends, and I stood tall with an athlete's build from endless football drills and gym sessions. My body was ripped—defined abs, broad pecs, bulging biceps—and I was a die-hard Real Madrid fan. I blasted rap tracks to pump myself up, and as an only child living with my parents, I adored Mom and would move mountains for her. But Dad? He was a whole different story. Dad was fifty-two, a long-haul truck driver who barely gave a damn about his appearance. Shorter than me, bald as a cue ball, with a slight paunch from too many beers and road food. The one thing we shared was our obsession with football, but even that pitted us against each other—he bled for FC Barcelona.
That night, Mom was out with her girlfriends, which meant the house was ours for the Spanish National Cup final. El Clásico: Real Madrid versus Barcelona. The tension crackled in the air as we settled in front of the TV, beers in hand, but I couldn't resist poking the bear right from kickoff. 'Your Barca boys are garbage, Dad,' I sneered, leaning back on the couch with a smirk. 'A bunch of overpaid clowns who couldn't score in a whorehouse.'
He shot me a glare, his face reddening under the stubble. 'Shut your mouth, you little shit. Madrid's just a pack of pretty boys with no balls.' The game dragged on, score tied, every foul and missed shot fueling the fire between us. I kept at it, yelling over the commentators. 'Look at that defense—leaky as your mom's old panties!' He fired back, 'At least we don't buy our wins like your corporate cunts!' Mom called midway to check in, but we brushed her off, too locked into the rivalry.
Penalties decided it. My heart pounded as our keeper dove left, snagging the ball. Real Madrid won. I jumped up, pumping my fist. 'Yes! Barca's a team of faggots, Dad! Weak-ass losers who choke every time!' That did it. Dad’s eyes blazed with rage. He lunged from his chair, slamming into me like a freight train. 'You disrespectful prick!' he roared, his fist connecting with my shoulder as we crashed to the floor. I shoved back hard, adrenaline surging. 'Get off me, you fat Barcelona bitch! I'm the man here now!'
We rolled across the living room carpet, grunting and swinging. His weight pinned me for a second, but I bucked him off, landing a solid punch to his gut. 'Fucking faggot trash!' he spat, grabbing my shirt and ripping it open, exposing my chiseled chest. I clawed at his arm, nails digging in. 'You're the one who's pathetic, you bald-headed pig! Can't even handle your team losing!' Our bodies pressed together in the struggle, sweat mixing, breaths hot and ragged. He snarled and sank his teeth into my pec, the sharp pain making me yelp. 'Ah, fuck! You animal!'
The bite sent a jolt through me, but instead of pure fury, something twisted in my gut—heat pooling low. He didn't let go right away, his mouth lingering, tongue flicking against the mark. I twisted, trying to throw him, but he shifted, his hand dropping to my jeans, squeezing my crotch through the denim. My cock twitched involuntarily under the pressure, hardening as he gripped harder. 'What the—stop, you pervert!' I gasped, but my voice cracked, body betraying me with a rush of arousal. He growled against my skin, 'Shut up, boy. You think you're tough? I'll show you who's boss.'
I fought back, pinching his side hard enough to make him howl. 'Take that, you sweaty fuck!' He moaned low, the sound vibrating through me, and retaliated by grabbing my arm, biting down until his teeth marks imprinted deep. Pain and that forbidden thrill mixed, my dick straining now, fully erect against his palm. We were a tangle of limbs, insults flying—'Ugly old bastard!' 'Spoiled little cock-tease!'—but the violence blurred into something charged, electric.
Then, the jingle of keys at the door. Mom was home early. We sprang apart, panting, clothes disheveled. I bolted to my room, slamming the door, heart hammering. Alone, the adrenaline crashed, but the heat didn't fade. My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, demanding release. What the hell was wrong with me? I was straight, macho, with a girlfriend who worshipped my body—I'd even thrown slurs around like confetti. And Dad? He was no prize: paunchy, unkempt, the last guy I'd ever... But the memory of his bite on my chest, his rough hand on my bulge, replayed vividly.
I stripped off my torn shirt, staring at the red mark on my pec in the mirror, then yanked down my pants. My cock sprang free, thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum. I wrapped my fist around it, stroking hard and fast, imagining the fight again—his body slamming mine, that squeeze turning into a pull, his moans echoing. 'Fuck,' I muttered, shocked at the intensity. I grabbed my phone, pulled up Instagram, and searched his profile. There he was: sweaty from a truck stop, shirt clinging to his belly; an old photo in a Barca jersey, arms crossed. I jerked faster, thumb smearing the slick tip, breaths coming in gasps as I fixated on his images, the taboo rush building to an edge.
I collapsed back on my bed, chest heaving, my hand sticky with cum as the orgasm ripped through me. The images of Dad's Instagram profile burned in my mind—his rough hands, that paunch straining his shirt—and I'd shot my load harder than ever. What the fuck? I wiped myself off with my discarded shirt, shoving my softening cock back into my boxers, but the ache didn't fade. Instead, it built again, insistent. I grabbed my phone once more, scrolling through more photos: him grinning at a truck stop, sweat beading on his bald head; an old shot from a Barcelona match, his arms flexed in that team jersey. My dick hardened instantly. I stroked it roughly, pumping from base to tip, imagining his bite marks on my skin, his grip on my bulge. I came again, groaning low, but sleep wouldn't come. All night, I edged myself, jerking off in bursts, each release fueled by his face, his body, until dawn broke and I passed out exhausted.
The next morning, sunlight stabbed through my curtains, and I woke with a jolt, my sheets crusty and my mind reeling. Shock hit me like a truck—me, Javier, the straight stud with the hot girlfriend, jacking off to my own dad? I showered quick, trying to wash away the filth, but my cock twitched at the memory of his teeth on my pec. Down in the kitchen, the smell of coffee hit me, and there he was: Dad, hunched over the table, shoveling breakfast like a beast. He smeared Nutella thick on toast, slathering it across his fingers, then sucked them clean one by one, his tongue lapping greedily, chocolate smudging his lips. My eyes locked on that mouth, and heat flooded my groin. My cock stiffened in my sweats, a wet spot forming as pre-cum leaked. 'Morning,' I muttered, voice thick, but he just grunted, licking another finger slow and deliberate. I couldn't take it—bolted back to my room, slammed the door, and yanked down my pants. My fist flew over my shaft, stroking furiously, visions of his tongue on me instead of that spread. I came in seconds, biting my lip to stifle the moan, but the confusion gnawed deeper. What the hell was happening to me?
Months dragged on, and I couldn't shake it. Dad consumed me. At school, I'd zone out in class, doodling his face in my notebook, my dick half-hard under the desk. On the soccer field, dodging tackles, I'd flash to our fight, his body slamming mine, and I'd miss passes, coach yelling at me. Gym sessions? Forget it—spotting weights, I'd stare at guys' bulks and superimpose his paunch, his bald scalp, jerking off in the locker room showers afterward. Even with my girlfriend, Sofia—it poisoned everything. We'd hook up in her room, her soft hands on my abs, but I'd close my eyes and picture Dad's rough paws. When she sucked my cock, bobbing her head, I'd groan, 'Yeah, like that,' imagining his stubbled jaw working me over, his throat taking me deep. Her kisses turned sloppy in my mind to his biting nips, tongues clashing like in our brawl.
We started fighting more. 'Babe, harder,' I'd demand, pinning her wrists, thrusting rough like I wanted to dominate—or be dominated. She'd wince, 'Javier, slow down, that hurts.' But the pain sparked it for me, echoing our rolls on the floor. One night, balls-deep in her pussy, I grabbed her hand, guiding her finger to my ass. 'Put it in,' I growled. Her eyes widened, shocked, but she loved me, so she pushed in tentative, wiggling. I bucked wild, moaning, 'Deeper, fuck!' In my head, it was Dad's thick finger probing me, prepping to claim what I'd craved. She came, confused but satisfied, but I exploded thinking of him stretching me open, his cock replacing that digit. Our sex turned violent—slaps, scratches—but she pulled away more each time. 'You're different, Javi. It's too much.' I didn't care; nothing satisfied but the fantasy of him railing me.
The obsession bled into home. I picked fights with Dad constantly, anything to spark that fire. 'Your team's still shit, old man,' I'd sneer at dinner, knowing it'd rile him. 'Pass the salt, you lazy fuck.' Mom pleaded, 'Boys, please, enough!' Her face crumpled with every shout, every slammed door. She grew pale, exhausted, until one evening she collapsed in the living room, clutching her chest. Ambulance lights flashed as they wheeled her out—stress, the doctors said, her heart strained from our endless war. Guilt twisted in me, but under it, that dark hunger pulsed.
That night, alone in the house, Dad stormed in from the hospital waiting room, eyes bloodshot with fury. 'This is your fault, you ungrateful little shit!' he bellowed, jabbing a finger at me in the hallway. 'Pushing her to the edge with your bullshit provocations!' I stood my ground, heart racing not just from anger. 'Me? You're the one who starts it every time, you fat slob! Blame your weak ass for not keeping peace!'
He charged, and we crashed to the floor in a heap, fists flying. SLAP! His palm cracked across my cheek, stinging hot. 'You worthless prick!' I retaliated, SLAP! My hand whipped his face, red blooming on his skin. 'Fuck you, you bald bastard!' We grappled, knees digging into ribs, elbows jabbing. PUNCH! I drove my fist into his shoulder; he grunted and swung back, PUNCH! Catching my jaw. Insults poured out—'Pathetic pig!' 'Spoiled cunt!'—but my cock hardened against his thigh, the friction igniting me.
Excitement twisted like a knife in my gut, my breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps as our sweat-drenched bodies ground together, the heat between us turning the fight into something feral and forbidden. Every roll and press sent jolts straight to my throbbing cock, trapped against the hardening bulge in his pants—Dad's cock, thick and insistent, rubbing mine like it knew exactly what I craved.
In the thick of it, my hand slithered under his stained shirt, fingers brushing those neglected nipples, puffy and sensitive from years of beer and neglect. I pinched them viciously, twisting the flesh until it reddened under my grip. He yelped, body arching into me, 'AH, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!' But that only fueled me, the pain in his voice mirroring the twisted pleasure surging through my veins. To retaliate, he reared back, hawking up a massive, phlegmy glob of spit from deep in his throat—thick, warm, and yellowish from whatever he'd eaten—and SPAT it right into my face. It splattered across my cheek with a wet smack, sliding down in slow, viscous trails, mixing with our sweat, the salty, bitter taste hitting my lips as it dripped into my open mouth. The sheer filth of it exploded in my brain—depraved, nasty, utterly perfect—my cock jerking hard in my pants, pre-cum soaking through.
I couldn't hold back; I gathered saliva in my mouth, working it thick and foamy, and SPAT back at him, aiming for his smirking lips. The glob landed heavy, coating his stubble in shiny wetness, bubbling as it trickled down his chin. 'TAKE THAT, DADDY!' I snarled, voice dripping with lust. He moaned low, a guttural rumble from his chest, his eyes glazing over with dark hunger, and he hawked up another load—bigger this time, stringy and copious—and SPAT it straight onto my mouth, the warm slime flooding my tongue, forcing me to swallow or choke. We went at it like animals, trading massive spits back and forth: I'd hock one onto his forehead, watching it ooze into his eyes; he'd fire one into my nostrils, the snotty drip making me snort it back up. Our faces turned into slick, messy masks of saliva—strings of it stretching and snapping between us as we rolled on the floor, panting and groaning, the air thick with the wet sounds of our depravity. Our crotches ground relentlessly now, my rock-hard cock sliding against his swelling shaft through the fabric, the friction pulling needy moans from us both, the violence melting into raw, incestuous lust.
Out of nowhere, Dad lunged in close, his hot breath on my skin, and dragged his rough tongue over my spit-soaked cheek in a brutal, scraping lick—from jawline to temple, lapping up the mixed saliva like a starving dog. 'MMM, TASTE THAT, BOY—YOUR OWN FILTH ON MY TONGUE,' he growled, voice gravelly and low, before diving back in, slurping greedily, his tongue flat and wide, tracing every curve of my face, collecting the drool in long, shiny paths that gleamed under the dim light. I groaned deep from my core, chest heaving wildly, breaths coming in sharp bursts as electric shivers raced down my spine, straight to my balls. The wet, invasive heat of his mouth—so disgusting, so raw and animalistic—made my dick pulse with agonizing need, leaking steadily now. He didn't let up, tongue rasping over my jaw, flicking into my ear to suck out the spit pooled there, then down to my lips, slobbering messily, his own drool mixing in, long, dangling threads connecting his chin to mine, swaying with each violent lap. 'FUCK, YES, DADDY—LICK ME CLEAN,' I panted, desperate, and thrust my tongue out, mirroring him, licking back at his stubbled, saliva-smeared face, tasting the salty tang of our combined spit, the faint bitterness of his skin, the musk of his sweat. Our tongues collided then, clashing like wet swords, fencing in the air between us—thrusting, parrying, smacking with obscene slurps and gurgles, spit flying in tiny sprays.
It shattered into a kiss—ferocious, sloppy, a full-on devouring where tongues plunged deep into each other's mouths, sucking hard on lips and cheeks, biting at the soft insides. We ravaged one another, moans vibrating through our joined mouths, spit overflowing in rivulets down our chins, pooling on the floor beneath us. His tongue fucked my mouth like a cock, thick and insistent, while I sucked on his, drawing out more drool to swallow greedily. We broke apart gasping for air, chests heaving, a fat, glistening strand of drool stretching from his lower lip to mine, quivering before snapping with a wet plop onto my neck. SLAP! His open palm cracked across my cheek, the sharp sting blooming into white-hot pleasure that made my hole clench. 'MORE, DADDY—SLAP YOUR BOY HARDER, IT MAKES ME SO FUCKING HORNY,' I begged, voice raw and broken. He grinned wickedly, SLAP! SLAP! Alternating sides, each hit leaving my skin burning red, my cock drooling pre-cum in response, the pain twisting into ecstasy.
The frenzy pulled us deeper into perversion. We shifted, clothes tearing off in frantic yanks—shirts ripped, pants shoved down—and maneuvered into a twisted 69, my face buried in his hairy crotch, his mouth hovering over my exposed ass and cock. I dove first, tongue lashing out to lick the sweat and spit from his inner thighs before attacking his feet—those rough, callused soles from endless truck shifts, toes gnarled and earthy. I sucked his big toe into my mouth like a mini cock, bobbing deep, tongue swirling around the salty, grimy skin, tasting the faint dirt and leather from his boots. 'SUCK DADDY'S DIRTY TOES, BABY—GET THEM NICE AND WET,' he commanded, groaning as he mirrored me, his tongue dragging slow and filthy over my sole, from heel to ball, lapping up the sweat there before sucking each of my toes one by one, his stubble scraping my arch. But we didn't stop at feet—his mouth found my balls, sucking them in sloppily while spitting globs onto my hole, the warm saliva trickling down to lube me. I retaliated, hawking spit onto his puckered ass before rimming him rough, tongue probing deep, then shifting to swallow his thick cock, gagging as it hit my throat. He thrust up, fucking my face while his tongue speared my ass, and we licked and spat in unison—globs of saliva dripping everywhere, faces smeared anew. Our tongues dueled over each other's holes and shafts, wet smacks and gurgles filling the room, feet still in our mouths intermittently as we twisted, sucking toes between deep-throating.
From the 69 haze, we bit then—teeth sinking into shoulders, necks, even the fleshy parts of our asses when we could reach, drawing grunts and throaty moans. BITE! I clamped down on his earlobe, tugging hard; he fired back, BITE! Into my collarbone, teeth grinding just enough to mark without breaking skin. The hits softened to teasing slaps and grabs, bodies slick with layers of sweat, spit, and pre-cum. 'FUCK ME, DAD—I NEED YOUR FAT COCK STRETCHING MY HOLE,' I whispered, grinding my ass against his thigh, desperate for more. His eyes blazed with lust, and he flipped us roughly, shoving me onto my back, yanking my pants fully off. My ass up, exposed and twitching, he hawked a huge load of spit directly onto my hole, watching it bubble and drip before shoving two thick fingers in, probing and scissoring rough, stretching me with burning friction.
He yanked out his dick—thick, veined beast, girthy from a lifetime of hard labor, foreskin peeled back to reveal the swollen head—and lined it up against my slick entrance. THRUST! He rammed in balls-deep in one brutal shove, splitting me open. 'TAKE IT ALL, BABY—DADDY'S COCK OWNS THIS TIGHT ASS!' he snarled, pounding with savage force. I cried out, a mix of pain and bliss, legs locking around his waist, 'YES, DADDY, FUCK YOUR BOY RAW—POUND ME HARDER!' Our rhythm turned vicious—SLAM! SLAM!—his hairy belly slapping my ripped abs, heavy balls smacking my cheeks with wet thwacks. He wrapped a hand around my throat, choking just enough to make stars burst in my vision as he railed me, 'YOU'RE DADDY'S LITTLE SLUT NOW, BEGGING FOR IT LIKE A WHORE.' I bucked up wildly, meeting every brutal drive, 'HARDER, DADDY—CLAIM THIS ASS, MAKE IT YOURS!'
In the peak of the frenzy, I snatched his foot again—those rugged, sweat-slick soles begging for worship—and hauled it to my face. I licked the sole broad and slow, tongue mapping every callus and wrinkle, savoring the musky, tangy flavor of his day's grime, then engulfed his big toe, sucking it deep like a cock, hollowing my cheeks and humming around it. 'MMM, YOUR FEET ARE SO FILTHY, DADDY—LOVE TASTING YOUR DIRTY TOES WHILE YOU FUCK ME,' I mumbled around the digit. He groaned loud, hips stuttering in their thrusts, 'SUCK 'EM GOOD, BABY—DADDY LOVES HIS BOY WORSHIPPING HIS STINKY FEET.' We flipped positions mid-fuck—he pulled out with a wet pop, spun me onto all fours, and plunged back in—THRUST!—doggy style, his mouth latching onto my foot now, tongue rasping the sole hungrily, sucking my toes between bites to my heel as I moaned like a bitch in heat, the dual sensations pushing me toward the edge.
In the throbbing haze of our depravity, I grabbed his callused foot once more—those grimy, sweat-soaked pads dripping with the day's filth—and smeared it across my face, the slick moisture trailing in shiny streaks over my cheeks and jaw, his pungent odor invading my nostrils like a drug, the damp heat clung to my skin, toes wiggling against my parted lips as I sucked them in greedily, my tongue slathering the salty crevices, gulping down the bitter residue mixed with my own spit. His thick shaft plunged deeper into my ass with every bob of my head, the stretch burning wetly as his precum leaked inside me.
He snarled low, hips jerking forward in savage THRUSTS! 'SLURP DADDY'S FILTHY FEET CLEAN, BABY—GET THAT TONGUE IN EVERY NASTY CRACK WHILE I REAM YOUR HOLE.' We twisted in the slick sheets—he pulled out with a obscene squelch, flipped me onto my hands and knees, and drove back in—DEEPER THRUST!—his hot breath on my sole as his mouth latched on, tongue rasping broad and sloppy over the arch, saliva flooding every ridge and valley. His drool cascaded down my heel, pooling with my sweat in a perverse puddle that trickled to the mattress, while his cock hammered my prostate, balls slapping wetly against mine.
His teeth nipped the tender ball of my foot, jolts of filthy pleasure racing to my dripping cock. I bucked back onto him, the raw friction of his girth slicked by our mingled fluids, making each plunge sloppier, louder. 'POUND ME RAW, DAD—FLOOD YOUR BABY'S ASS WITH THAT THROBBING MEAT!' I gasped, voice muffled by the pillow soaked in our sweat. His rough palms clamped my hips, fingers digging bruises, claiming me utterly as his hairy gut smacked my back, sweat flying with every impact. One hand wrapped around to pump my leaking shaft—twisting the slick crown, milking out globs of precum that strung down to the sheets.
But our feet owned the chaos. He released my sole with a sloppy pop, spit bridges snapping, and jammed his other foot to my mouth from behind. I craned eagerly, grinding the drenched pad over my nose and lips, inhaling the acrid, trucker-stink reek before devouring three toes at once, tongue probing the grime-packed gaps, swallowing flakes of dirt and lint in a haze of taboo hunger. The flavor assaulted me—sour, earthy, like oil-soaked leather marinated in hours of boot sweat. I nursed them like a starving whore, mouth overflowing with drool that dribbled down my chin onto his thrusting cock.
My release hit like a storm, hole clenching around him as I erupted with a choked scream around his digits—cum spraying in thick, messy arcs across the bed, splattering my thighs. He powered through, grunts turning to guttural roars. 'MILK DADDY'S COCK, BABY—TAKE EVERY DROP DEEP IN THAT GREEDY ASS!' One final, brutal THRUST!, and he unloaded, pulsing jets of hot seed flooding me, overflowing to leak down my crack in creamy rivulets. We collapsed in a tangle, his weight crushing me deliciously, foot still lodged in my mouth, twitching with his spasms.
Panting like animals, he slid free, his load gushing from my wrecked hole, smearing my inner thighs in sticky warmth. I turned to him—his ruddy face slick with perspiration, bald head shining, belly heaving. Pure, unfiltered craving burned there. I yanked his neglected foot to my chest, rubbing the sodden sole over my cum-glazed pecs, the grit and moisture teasing my nipples into stiff peaks. 'Need to taste this one too, Dad.' He chuckled darkly, propping up to watch as I lapped a wide, deliberate stripe from heel to toes, savoring the diesel-tanged brine that coated every inch.
We shifted, him lounging against the pillows, legs spread wide. I settled between, my dick twitching back to life amid the ache. His feet framed my head—one sole on each shoulder—and I nuzzled the right one, dragging it languidly over my cheeks and throat, the wet friction leaving glistening trails of his essence on my skin, face buried in the arch, I inhaled deeply, then clamped my lips around the heel, teeth grazing the tough hide while my fingers kneaded his meaty calves, spreading the sweat further. He fisted his hardening length slowly, eyes smoldering. 'Look at my star athlete, humping his face on Daddy's rank, dripping paws like a filthy addict. That girlfriend of yours never craved this nastiness, did she, baby?'
The taunt fired me up—I bit into the instep, eliciting a sharp hiss, then soothed with fervent swirls, tongue mapping the deep furrows, scooping out every trapped speck of grime. 'Screw Sofia and her vanilla shit,' I muttered, swapping feet, grinding the toes over my mouth before sucking them deep, dislodging salty debris that I savored and swallowed, the act twisting fresh heat in my gut. My hand strayed to my cock, but he slapped it away. 'Feet first, baby—worship properly.' I complied, massaging his shins as my mouth ravaged—kissing the ankle bone, nibbling the edges, then throating the toes like miniature cocks, saliva pouring in rivulets down my neck.
He swelled rigid in his grip, veins bulging. 'Climb on.' I straddled, his soles gliding up my spine, heels pressing into my ass as I sank down onto his slick rod—inch by torturous inch, the re-entry squelching with our combined mess, filling me to bursting. Bottomed out, I rolled my hips, grinding my spot against his thickness, then captured his lips in a messy, saliva-heavy clash. Tongues dueled, swapping flavors of sweat, seed, and foot grime—but I broke away to trail bites down his collar, sucking his hairy chest.
His nubs stood erect in the fur; I latched onto one, drawing hard while tweaking the other viciously. He arched, feet clamping my cheeks, toes prying me open wider as I bounced. 'RIDE IT OUT, BABY—FEED DADDY YOUR DESPERATE NEED!' I rose and crashed down, flesh smacking with wet echoes, my shaft trapped and sliding through his belly hair, precum webbing us. The build was electric, but I held off, dismounting to hoist his thighs, baring his furry cleft and pulsing entrance.
'Your turn to get stuffed,' I growled, hawking spit onto my digits to rim his pucker, shoving two in—the tight, velvety grip sucking me deeper. I twisted more, stretching him sloppy while seizing his foot to press the drenched sole against my pulsing cock, the moisture lubing my strokes. He groaned, pumping himself faster. 'Harder—gape Daddy's shithole, baby.' Four fingers now, churning his insides to a wet mess as I tongued his perineum, lapping close but teasing, feet overriding—I rolled his pad over my sack, the slick pressure making me throb.
I yanked my hand free, slathering my dick with the cum oozing from my ass—his essence as glide—and prodded his rim. 'Beg for it.' His pride shattered. 'Plow me, Javier—stuff Daddy full.' I eased in measured, savoring his grimace twist to bliss as I buried to the hilt. His legs wrapped my hips, feet interlocking, heels gouging my flanks. I rutted hard, pelvis snapping, nuts battering his cheeks. He stroked in rhythm, claws scoring my bicep.
Our rut turned savage, bodies drenched, room reeking of our foul cocktail. I contorted to slurp his toes during a thrust, the lewd angle amplifying the slop. He came undone first, ring clamping like a fist, jizz arcing over his paunch in sloppy bursts. The vise yanked my orgasm free, pumping him full with guttural moans, seed spilling out around my base.
Drained, we disentangled, feet intertwining in lazy, slick caresses, forms gleaming. But the embers glowed. 'Who rails you nastier, baby—Daddy or that whorish girlfriend?' Dad husked, gaze feral. I locked eyes, sliding my sole up his leg. 'You do, Dad—your meat wrecks me like Sofia's pathetic attempts never could.' The spark reignited; I mashed my foot to his wilting prick, rubbing sensually. 'And you—who milks you better, me or Mom?'
He gulped, his pad tracing my abs. 'You, baby—your ass drains me drier than she ever dreamed.' We maneuvered, limbs knotting, feet roaming greedily—mine gliding over his gut, his exploring my torso, soles smearing sweat and cum in erotic paths across every curve, the drenched slides reignited the blaze. He maneuvered my foot to his reviving cock, encasing it with his for a twisted rubdown, toes flexing to grip and tug my shaft while I mirrored—deliberate, teasing glides, arches hugging lengths, heels prodding sacs. Our earlier drool and fresh leaks turned the contact into a sopping mess, squishes punctuating the air as we foot-fucked with perverse precision.
Coils tightened; I burst first, hosing his feet in heavy, viscous ropes that drenched toes and heels. He chased, erupting over mine, scalding spurts coating every inch. No hesitation—I hoisted his foot, tongue diving in to lap the mess, broad swipes over the sole gathering our salty blend, sucking globs from toe gaps with vacuum pulls, the depraved cocktail sliding down my throat. He reciprocated, ravaging my foot with ravenous strokes, gulping our essence in greedy swallows, spit overflowing to drip anew.
Faces hovering close, breaths hot and ragged, I gathered a fat wad and spat it onto his mouth—thick slime webbing between us, drooling in nasty strands. He retaliated, glob landing on my forehead, viscous bridges linking our features in a web of perversion. We volleyed relentlessly, faces turning into slick masks of saliva, each hawked load more copious, cascading down necks and chests in sloppy rivers, the air thick with wet smacks and our mingled scents.
Dad surged forward, tongue unfurling to lave my whole face—methodical drags from chin to brow, endless ribbons of drool spilling from his lips, bathing me in warm, stringy floods that pooled in my collarbones, the possessive slather dissolved our remnants of rage. We melted together, bodies aligning, and our mouths fused in a unhurried lock—soft, slurping sounds echoing as lips parted lazily, fat drool filaments stretching and snapping between probing tongues.
'Mmmph... I love you, baby,' he moaned into the kiss, the vibration humming through the wet seal, another deep press pulling more threads free. 'I love you too, Dad,' I breathed back, the confession raw amid the slime-slick glide, diving in slower, savoring the drooling tangle.
He eased apart just enough, vulnerability raw. 'Sorry for all the shouting, the fights over the years, baby. It was jealousy—pure envy of your beauty, how you glow like a god. Hated the thought of anyone else touching what's mine.' Moisture welled, but desire and affection fused them. Our concealed passion thrived in the dark—nights ending with him creeping into my room, lips meeting in fervent, hushed smooches while Mom dozed oblivious. Stolen pecks in the shadows of the kitchen, tongues darting quick from Sofia's or her gaze; her calls ignored as I reserved my hunger for him.
And when we plowed our women—me slamming into Sofia's cunt, mind flooded with his grimy soles grinding my skin, his spit on my face; him rutting deep into Mom, visions of my hole clenching his cock, our feet entwined—it was always us haunting the thrusts, father and son fueling the forbidden fire in every slick, imagined stroke. Our ritual persisted: barbs veiling the yearning, brawls sparking the inferno, feet, spit, and cum forging our eternal, shadowed bond.
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