The following is a work of erotic fiction. As such, it depicts graphic sexual situations. Only venture forward if it is legal for you to do so in your region.
Eighteen-year-old Ryder Johnson flung himself onto his back, giddily kicked his feet into the air and pounded his fists against the mattress below him. The first of a new series, entitled I Fuck My Macho Dad, had just premiered on the Dark Web. Orchestrated by Ryder, filmed and edited by his cohort in crime, techie Aston “Weebs” Weebles, it starred his unsuspecting father, Alex, a handsome thirty-eight year old macho blue collar construction worker. This episode featured boy next door Damien Fellowes with special guest appearance by Weebs and, of course, Ryder.
Drugged on a particularly potent potion, Alex had no recollection of being filmed as the three teens ravaged him. All he knew was that his asshole was quite sore the next day. The finished product was as close to professional as could be. Weebs was quite good at his craft. At Damien’s request his facial features had been pixelated to disguise his identity. The others were boldly and proudly displayed at their finest. Weebs, an overweight, pimple-faced teen, didn’t give an actual fuck if he was later recognized. Ryder wanted the resemblance between himself and Alex evident to assure audiences of authenticity. Any viewer paying to view the feature would have no call to cast aspersions.
The foursome was followed with a short teaser, not as professional as the main feature, filmed days before by Ryder with his phone. Damien’s father, Dustin, a dorky banker type with a huge dick was paired with poor Alex, who took a brutal fisting by the usually mild-mannered neighbor, Dustin had no idea he was destined to be featured on the dark web indulging in hedonistic delights. No one else would, either. Like his son, Dustin’s features were also distorted to protect the guilty.
The ”hits” and money were already rolling in. Ryder and Dweebs had fallen upon a cash cow. Of course, since Ryder knew little about these things, Dweebs had set it all up. Eighty percent of each paid “hit” was all theirs. The sleazy teen team already had ideas for a follow-up feature. It would take some doing, but they were confident they could pull it off.
The three teens gathered in Weeb’s bedroom, bumped fists, high-fived and celebrated the release of Macho Dad. Damien was in a bit of shock. Although his face was concealed, D knew it was his father in that last piece of film. All of a sudden his father wasn’t such a nerd as he’d thought him to be. Damien, a gymnast and track aficionado, was all in on giving assistance to the other boys’ venture. Besides, he’d really enjoyed fucking Ryder’s macho dad and wanted the chance for a repeat performance. He already had some ideas on how to make the next encounter materialize.
Next to the Fellowes’ lived George Anderson. George, in his early-to-mid forties, now resided alone in the three-bedroom home after his wife had left him. And his son relocated following college graduation. Depressed and lonely, George had turned to alcohol to fill the void. Surprisingly, George was a jolly drunk, although given to vulgar outbursts. He swore like a sailor. Every now and then he could be seen bringing home some bar trollop to fuck. Sometimes he would wander to neighbor’s homes uninvited and pass time. Once he had been a decent looking man, but more often than not he was now a bit unkempt, sported watery eyes and a Rudolph proboscis. Like Alex Johnson, he was a blue collar worker: a construction mason, which kept him in better shape than he might otherwise have been. George was a husky guy with big arms, legs and a tell-tale protruding gut.
The Anderson back yard was fenced, as were most of the other properties. A tall, wooden privacy fence surrounded both sides and the rear of the yard. But there were knot holes, as Damien well knew. In his younger years he had poked the knots out to peer into the Anderson yard and replaced them after he had voyeured. In addition, there was a long-neglected “tree house” George had built for his son, when he was much younger, that was directly at the rear line of the property. All vantage points for a photographer’s access.
It was a good three weeks before their plan reached fruition, which provided Weebs with ample time to teach the other two the fine art of filming. Damien caught right on; Ryder took a bit longer. By the time Weebs was finished with their training they were qualified enough to be decent cameramen. Weebs would edit together the best of all three and present a professional finished product. The “scene” would be shot from different vantage points: atop the tree house, through the largest knot hole in the fence and from a secluded corner behind overgrown shrubbery at the back of the house. Many factors figured into production day: weather, the absence of Damien’s father and mother, George’s degree of inebriation and Alex’s cooperation.
It all came together on one sunny and seasonally warm weekend. Ryder’s mother was away visiting relatives, brother Jaylen out and about with his wrestling buddies and the Fellowes’ at a wedding. Damien kept watch from the knot hole and alerted the others when George Anderson was in his back yard resting on a lounger near the above-ground circular pool with a trusty cooler and old school radio by his side, listening to tunes and enjoying his favorite beverage. Weebs was on scene in a flash, eyeing up the situation next to Damien at the hole. An overly-excited Ryder faced the task of informing Alex what his duties were for the afternoon.
He found his handsome, muscular, cock sucking dad in the midst of reorganizing the garage. Stepping up behind him, in a commanding voice Ryder told him, “Put this on, Dad-fuck!”
A noticeable chill went down Alex’s spine when he heard the tone of his eldest son’s voice. He turned and saw the flimsy pink g-string dangling from the boy’s index finger. “What is this?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“It’s a bikini bathing suit, you dumb fuck. Now drop those shorts and put it on. We don’t have all day.” He thrust the object out to Alex, who looked from his son to the g-string and then back again.
“W-Why would I want to wear that? And, where did you get it?” he asked quizzically, already fearing the answer.
“Ordered it online. And you’re wearin’ it ‘cos you’re going two doors down and getting fucked by Mr. Anderson, that’s why,” Ryder told him sarcastically.
Alex’s chiseled jaw dropped and his darkly lashed eyes widened. “Like hell I am.”
“Like hell you’re not,” Ryder challenged.
“Ryder, this shit has got to stop,” Alex told him. “You’ve taken it too damned far.”
“It stops when I fuckin’ say it stops.” Ryder smiled cruelly. “You’re my dad-bitch now. Defy me and I’ll blow your queer ass clear out of the water.”
“George Anderson has been a neighbor for years. I can’t just knock on his door wearing that---thing and tell him to fuck me. Are you crazy?”
“You’ve already done Mr. Fellowes,” Ryder reminded him snidely. “Why not the rest of the neighborhood?”
“The rest of----NO! Just---no! This stops now. I’m your father, for crissakes.”
Ryder leaned his butt against the Toyota pick-up truck, used primarily by Alex. “By the way, I ran into Seth Hawkins, your work buddy the other day by Liquor-a-Go-Go. He hooked me up with a twenty ouncer---”
Alex’s eyes flared again. “You didn’t---tell him?”
Ryder’s smile widened. “I wanted to, but I kept to our pact. I keep my mouth shut about you bein’ a cum dump if you do everything---and I mean everything---I tell you to. Now strip down and put this on.”
Alex paused a moment, considering. His options were few. He had no doubt that his errant son would out him if he showed opposition. Begrudgingly Alex snatched the flimsy piece of shiny material from the boy’s hands. “There isn’t enough here to even cover me,” he complained.
"That’s the idea,” Ryder smirked. “Georgie Porgie is over there right now by the pool fixing to tie one on---again. Other than them bar tramps he brings home ev’ry now and then he prob’ly doesn’t get much pussy. He’ll get the idea when he sees you in that tiny pink thong.”
Alex had no retort. He was fighting a losing battle. He rued the day he met his client at that sleazy motel where Ryder had caught them fucking. He was in his son’s evil clutches and there was no wiggle room. Giving his son a piercing look he moved to go past him towards the mud room door. “Where the fuck you going?” Ryder’s cold voice stopped him.
Alex turned back to face the boy. “Inside to put this thing on,” he replied sharply.
“Nuh-uh,” Ryder shook his head. “Strip down here and slip into it.”
Alex looked dumbfounded. “Skip Harrington is right across the street mowing his lawn, for crissakes.”
“Good,” Ryder grinned from ear to ear. “Maybe he’ll want to join in. You ever take a good look at his wife? What a fuckin’ dog! Now strip!” he ordered crossly. “We ain’t got all day!”
Alex tightened his jaw in fury. Moving to the front of the truck, which offered some concealment, he began to strip. Giddily, Ryder watched. Alex had a fine bod, built from years on the construction crew. Nice arm and leg muscles, strong hairy chest, six-pack abs, cinched waist and tight, rounded ass. Ryder was certain there were lots of ladies who would give their left tit for a throw down with him. But, even though he had a nice thick one, Daddy liked dick.
Alex pulled on the flimsy bikini. It was skin-tight and scooped so low in the front that his entire man-bush and the root of his cock was on display. The thing was utterly obscene! Ryder unconsciously licked his lips. He was already boning up just looking at his slut dad in the thing.
Alex was obviously uncomfortable. “Hear me loud and clear, I am not walking across two lawns in this thing.”
Ryder clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Well, of course not. Although it sure would be a hoot if you did. I’ll let you put your shorts on over it.”
“Gee, thanks,” Alex replied sarcastically, reaching for his cargos.
“You’re gonna go in through the fence door, drop your drawers and then approach Georgie,” Ryder informed him. Reaching into his pocket he handed his father a small device. “Here, put this in your fuckin’ ear.”
“Wh-what’s this?”
“An ear bud, you dumb fuck,” Ryder spat out. “I’m gonna be watching your every move from the tree house at the back of the Anderson property and coaching you.” He failed to tell Alex that it was a specialized earbud courtesy of Weeb’s that would capture and record any conversation between Alex and George. In fact, it was already recording.
Alex pulled on his low-slung cargo shorts. Reaching for his shirt, Ryder sharply advised, “You won’t need that.” For his loafers. “Them either. Gimme a couple minutes and I’ll tell you when you can start walking over.” And then the boy was dashing out of the back garage door, Weebs’ telecam in hand.
Alex wasn’t certain he could go through with this. He’d put himself in some risky situations in the past and gotten away with it, until that fateful day that Ryder had spied his truck parked at the cheap motel. Fucking around with the neighbors was a bit too close to home. First the Fellowes’ and now George Anderson? If Ryder had his way the whole damned block would be aware of his dark side. And it wouldn’t be long before word got back to Vivian. The outcome would be disastrous for him. Somehow he needed to make Ryder listen to reason.
“OK,” came his son’s voice through the ear bud. “Go across the Fellowes’ yard and in through the gate at the Andersons. And make it snappy. I’m up in the treehouse watching. Looks like Anderson is on his way to tying one on.”
Letting out a breath of nervous exasperation Alex padded on bare feet out of the garage. Glancing across the street he saw Skip at the curb. Shouting above the roar of the motor, the older man issued a how-do-you-do. His eyes quickly measured up Alex. While he never looked quite that good, at almost sixty Skip still had strong arms from his early boxing years. He still worked out with a heavy bag in his shed out back. He now proudly displayed them in a sleeveless t-shirt. “How’s it going, Skip,” Alex responded with a wave.
“Don’t worry about him,” came Ryder’s voice. “He might be fucking you next. Now, get moving.”
Even in the afternoon heat Alex felt a chill go down his spine. His eldest son was totally incorrigible. And to think that, not long ago, Ryder was a model child. What in hell had turned him into such a hellion once he reached puberty? Still, other sons didn’t do to their fathers what Ryder was doing with him. Or did they?
With a purposeful gait Alex strode barefoot across the Fellowes’ well maintained front lawn. Memories of Dustin and the handballing session he had endured caused his cock to swell. Things were cramped enough as it was in that provocative thong without him sporting an erection. He attempted to will it down, but the cock has a mind of its own.
He had stepped over the property line separating the Fellowes’ yard from the Andersons’. The gate to the back yard loomed to the right. Alex nervously stepped up to it and tried the latch. It was unlocked. He paused, debating his options. There really were none. Either he was going to do this, and possibly embarrass himself, or not. The alternative was even worse. Swallowing hard he flipped the latch and entered the enclosure. He wondered if Skip had tracked his progress, but dared not look over his shoulder. Closing the door behind him he stood there on the walkway.
“Where the fuck are you?” exploded into his ear.
“I-I just came through the gate,” Alex replied.
“Strip down, leave your cargos there and get on over to George,” Ryder commanded.
“Ryder, I---”
“This isn’t a debate. Just fuckin’ do it,” Ryder ordered. “Unless you want Seth and the rest of the crew to know you’re a cock sucking faggot.”
Feeling defeated Alex unzipped his shorts, let them drop to the ground and placed them aside. He attempted to adjust his manhood in the tight pouch of the pink thong, but it was crowded space. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward into the enclosed yard. He instantly spotted George in the lounge chair, his back toward him. He froze.
“I see you now, Dad-fuck,” Ryder’s voice pierced through the ear bud. “What’re you waitin’ for? Get on over there and introduce yourself.” Alex scanned the tall trees at the back of the property, their thick branches spreading over the fence and into the area. Not all that apparent at first, he zoned in on the old tree house and knew that was where his son was stationed. Taking a deep breath and letting it slowly out, Alex ventured forward. At the same time, Weebles silently opened the gate and stepped through, his cam at the ready. The cheeks of Mr. Johnson’s hard, muscle packed ass looked awfully inviting with that ultra-thin strip of pink running into the deep crack. Weebs licked his fat liver lips as he recorded Alex’s progress from this angle, knowing Ryder was catching it long distance from the front. Spliced together it would make an awesome intro on video.
Of course, Alex was too consumed with what he was expected to do to realize the heavyset teen had come into the yard behind him and was situated at the side of the house near an overgrown bush for concealment. And neither of those two knew that neighbor Skip, moseying along on his lawn tractor, had seen the both of them enter through the gate. Skip frowned, thought a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and carried on with lawn maintenance.
Alex’s strong, masculinely-shaped legs felt like rubber as he made his way to the man in the chair. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides as he grew closer. Retrieving another beer from the cooler at his side and popping the lid, George brought it to his lips, took a gulp and nearly choked on it when he saw a shadow cast over the grass before him. Craning his neck to look behind, he saw the shape of a nearly nude man. Shielding his eyes from the blazing sun directly behind the intruder he blinked once, then twice before saying, “Who in fuck are you?”
“It’s me, George. Alex Johnson from two doors down.” Alex’s voice was much more confident than he felt.
“Alex!” George bellowed jovially, struggling to get up from the recliner. He thrust a hand out to his neighbor, the one not holding a beer. Noticing the flimsy pink almost-there thing Alex was wearing he followed with, “Did you come for a swim?”
“No, George,” Alex repeated what Ryder was dictating into his ear. “I came for you.”
“Me?” The half-drunken smile on George’s face showed confusion.
“My wife’s away. You’re here alone. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.”
“Opportunity?” George looked puzzled.
“That’s right, buddy,” Alex continued, fighting back the trepidation he felt. He hesitated at Ryder’s next command, then reached out one strong, sinewy hand and cupped George’s crotch. It was promising, indeed. “I want you to fuck me, George. I’ve been wanting your cock for a long , long time.”
George’s jaw comically dropped and his bleary eyes bulged. He shook his head as if attempting to ward off some vision. Nope, it was still there: his handsome, well-built and macho neighbor in a teeny shocking pink g-string that showed everything, squeezing his basket. He knew he’d had a few, but he didn’t think he’d drunk enough to have visions. George raised his beer bottle to his mouth and nearly drained the entire thing before Alex snatched it away and poured the remainder over George’s hairy chest. George thought to complain about the waste but it turned out to be otherwise. Alex lapped up the frothy brew, starting at the crest of the man’s barreled belly, up through his sternum and moved across to suckle one fat teat. George sighed huskily, hardly believing what was happening. Out of instinct he put a large, calloused hand to the back of Alex’s head and held him close. It was then that Alex knew he had him. So did Ryder.
Completely oblivious to the fact that Ryder was filming from the tree house, Weebles from behind a bush and Damien through the fence, Alex ate George’s chunky nipple, trading one for the other and felt the mason’s cock growing beneath his working hand. It was promising. George was moaning, his face thrust up at the sun and his eyes closed as if in a dream. Alex had relaxed, confident now that George wasn’t going to challenge him. Or worse. Ryder was barely coaching him, leaving Alex to his own devices. Every now and then he would suggest Alex move a bit to the right, then the left, Alex never suspecting it had to do with more advantageous camera angles.
Alex licked straight down George’s chest, over his beer belly and caught the zipper of his shorts between his teeth. As he worked the clasp atop he dragged the zip downward. His blue collar worker’s hands grasped both shorts and boxers from the sides and yanked them to mid-thigh. George’s fully erect cock sprung forth. The middle-aged man’s dick was as hard and eager as any eighteen-year-olds, already leaking clear pre-cum. Damien moaned low behind the fence as he filmed Ryder’s dad cleaning up Mr. Anderson’s discharge. Keeping the cam steady he worked down his own zipper, hauled out his teen cock and stroked.
George had a dumbstruck look as the stud from two doors down wrapped a hand around his manhood and licked all over his swollen, now-shiny crown. It was shocking! It was preposterous! He’d never taken Alex Johnson for a cocksucker. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t drunk enough to be imagining all of this. That sometimes happened when he had downed half a bottle of Scotch. Today it was strictly beer.
Alex twisted his hand up and down the full length of George’s dick as his tongue gave the crimson head its full attention. Following Ryder’s instructions through the earpiece he dug the tip of his licker into the cock’s long, deep piss slit and whirled it around, making George shiver. More precious pre-cum surfaced and Alex hungrily feasted on it. Growing weak in the legs, or feeling the effects of the three beers he’d consumed, George fell back onto the cushioned lounge, his bulky, hairy legs spread to either side, feet planted on the lawn and cock majestically standing at attention.
“What’re you waitin’ for? You know how to do this shit. Get down there and eat his nuts,” Ryder ordered. Oh, Alex certainly knew how to service cock. He’d been doing it long before the unruly teen was born. All these years he’d been lucky not to be exposed for the cock lover he was. Wasn’t it a true twist of fate that it would be his son to uncover his secret proclivity?
Alex got down onto the lounge between the spread of George’s beefy thighs. With one burly hand holding the neighbor’s meat back against the swell of his hard beer belly, Alex appraised the basket. George’s nuts hung heavily between his thighs in their hairy, wrinkled pouch. The orbs appeared quite large and loaded with tasty cream. Alex shoved his handsome face in the V created by George’s legs and slathered his tongue all over the sweaty pouch, wetting the crinkled hairs and plastering them against it. Ryder had his lens zoomed in so close he felt he was right there in the action. Dweebs had come from behind the bush and found a better vantage point to capture the action. Alex sucked one nut into his mouth and went to work on it, his cheeks hollowing as he worked it and pausing every now and then to pull a stray hair from between his teeth. Spitting that nut out he gave the same treatment to its twin. Then, opening his mouth impossibly wide, he took in the entire package. George squirmed on the lounge, his eyes closed and his head rolling from one side to the other as his tongue licked at the corners of his open, panting mouth.
“Eat his ass,” Ryder ordered. Alex lowly whined, released George’s scumbag and thought quickly. Without direction from his devious son Alex sat up near the bottom of the lounge, both of his feet anchored to the lawn below, much the same as George’s, and reached into the cooler resting on the grass beside the chair. Retrieving a long neck, he unscrewed the cap, placed it aside and brought his hands to either side of George’s outer thighs. Lifting the man’s legs, he spread them wide and back, effectively exposing the beer hog’s man hole,. Grasping the bottle again he brought it to his mouth and took some of the suds but, rather than swallowing, spat it out against George’s spread ass cheeks. Frothy suds trailed down the length of George’s crack. George had lifted his head, watching with amazement as Alex repeated the same action.
“Shame to waste it,” Alex growled in his deep, masculine voice and dove in face first. Even Ryder was briefly stunned by his father’s initiative. Then he got angry. Who the fuck said his dad could run the show? It was hot and would make for good video but later Ryder would chide him just as a father would an unruly child. But he’d be doing it with his teen dick.
Alex’s thick tongue lapped at George’s clenched ass lips, tasting the cold beer and gamey butt. Holding the beer out to George, who was in a state of stunned silence and swallowed the remainder in three huge gulps, he then used his fingers to pull the asshole open and slithered up into the other man. George’s eyeballs rolled upward as Alex aggressively tongue fucked his man hole. From his nearby vantage point Weeble’s pucker was squirming, remembering how it felt when he planted his fat ass on Mr. Anderson’s face. His tongue had been like a reptile’s, seemingly slithering up into Weeb’s colon!
George’s big cock was leaking even more heavily now. Feeling the effects of the brews he’d consumed, George became more vocal. “Eat my ass, faggot!” he bellowed. “Get your fuckin’ tongue all the way up in there and clean out my dirty shit hole!” Alex responded by forming his lips around George’s bung and slovenly sucking while his tongue swirled around those inner membranes. On the other side of the fence Damien was finding it a challenge keeping his cam focused while jerking his teen dick to the lurid action.
Alex had become a man high on ass. He snorted wildly as he aggressively ate George out. Pulling back from the hole, he ran his tongue up and down the length of George’s musty ass crack, chewed on his balls and returned to tonguing his hole. George was moaning like a man in heat and squirming around on the lounge. The face of that good looking, manly man pressed between the cheeks of his ass was more intoxicating than any brand of beer. Alex was hastily working him from all over: ass hole to crack to nuts and then back again. George believed he could easily get off from this action.
“Suck his dick some more,” Ryder commanded. Alex instantly obeyed, although it had been his plan anyway. Pulling George’s randy erection to his face he wrapped his juicy lips around the crown and rabidly sucked while corkscrewing a hand up and down the thick shaft. “Jerk yourself while you’re suckin’ his dick,” Ryder directed and Alex complied. His dick had wedged its way out of the side of his thong long before. He fisted it as he took more and more of the neighbor’s dick into his working mouth, both heavily tendoned hands busy now.
George was buzzed just enough not to care it was another dude getting down on his meat. Especially since it was the hunky husband of the woman two doors down he’d fantasized fucking. If he couldn’t have her---well, shit---he’d take her man. All those times they’d had casual conversation over the years, talking work and sports, he’d never taken him for a cock sucker. Alex Johnson was as manly as a guy could get. It seemed these days, who knew? He fleetingly wondered if the wife had any idea. Probably not.
Alex must have really wanted him, the way he brazenly came over there in that slut suit. Maybe it was his wife’s. Him, George Anderson. A down-on-his luck forty-four year old masonry worker with a gut that told of his passion for beer. And this good looking, well-built dude was hot to make it with him. Even the broads didn’t fall over George the way Alex seemed to be doing. Maybe it was the hot sun or the cold beers getting to him, but George was into the way this guy was feasting on his goods. In fact, he decided he’d enjoy another while Alex sucked his cock. Was doing a damned fine job of it, too. Most of the bar flies he occasionally took home didn’t worship him the way his neighbor was. George reached for another brew, popped the top and took a long drag. Now, this was the life. Getting your cock sucked by a neighbor in your own back yard while enjoying a beer. He felt like King of the Day.
“Go down on it. All the way!” Ryder demanded. “Fuck your throat with it!” Alex really didn’t need his son directing him in the fine art of cocksucking. He’d been doing it for a long while. Lost count of how many he’d done. Probably somewhere in the hundreds. Cut and uncut; straight, gay, bi; old and legal teen; skinny, fat, short, long, massive; black, white and everything in between. Despite it all he maintained a strictly macho demeanor. That era of limp-wristed, lisping fairies was over. Alex represented the new generation of cock worshippers.
Alex was chewing his way down George’s hefty cock when George rudely grabbed a fistful of his thick, chestnut hair and yanked him off. Grinning drunkenly, George chuckled, “Want to wet your whistle?” and proceeded to pour beer onto his throbbing dick. Alex thirstily lapped the tasty refreshment off George’s wet, quivering shaft. George took a drink from the bottle and deposited some more for Alex’s pleasure. What a way to share a beer, Alex thought as he tongue continued to lap the suds from George’s cock. “Holy fuck!” Ryder cackled excitedly. “Good one, Mr. Anderson!”
Letting out a guttural cry, Alex grabbed George’s scumbag and stretched it out, effectively bringing the hard cock more upright. Moving in over the other man’s groin, Alex covered the cap with his warm mouth and went down on the entire length of the fat hunk of man meat. Awestruck, both George’s mouth and eyes gaped and his entire body trembled. With George’s prick pulsing even more heavily in his throat Alex chewed on the thick, hairy root until certain George couldn’t handle it anymore. Painfully slow, he came up off the stunned fuck rod and glided his tongue all over the straining meat before taking it into his maw again.
“That’s it, Dad-fuck,” Ryder giddily remarked. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do. Put a dick in front of you and you’re nuthin’ but a dirty cock whore. Look at you, gobbling that shit right up. Throat him some more. Georgie looks like he’s gonna shoot right the fuck off that chair. Just don’t make him cum. At least, not yet.” Ryder knew exactly how George Anderson felt, having been the recipient of his reluctant Dad’s blow jobs for weeks now. None of the high school girls who’d sucked him off were nearly as good as his own father. Like Damien, Ryder had his teen dick out in the open and was stroking as he watched the action unfold before him.
Alex heaved full throttle on George’s happy meat, snorting slovenly as he took him all the way down, then back up again. With George’s fat fingers still buried in Alex’s hair they twisted and turned, sometimes threatening to pull his thick locks from their roots. George’s big naked body was sizzling under the hot sun, consumed by a wild passive pleasure. Beads of perspiration dotted his high forehead as he writhed and bucked on the lounge. Alex was going full throttle on his dick, not even gagging as he repeatedly swallowed the entire thing. He felt the other man’s scrotum tightening in the grip of his hand and instantly knew what that signaled. There would be hell to pay from his degenerate son if he allowed that to happen so soon.
Coming off the dick he slapped it against the sides of his bristled face. Alex was a stud who only shaved every other, sometimes on the third, day. Unless there was some special occasion. It gave him even more of a he-man appearance. He dragged the heavily leaking head over his thick, sensual lips, smearing them with luscious pre-cum. Since he seriously loved the flavor of the fluid, even his own, he ran his tongue over his lips to collect it. George was in a state of nirvana, digging himself deeper into the lounge cushions and continually moaning as his head rocked from one side to the other.
Georgie wasn’t such a bad type, after all, Alex decided. If he hadn’t consciously decided to keep his affairs away from the neighborhood, Alex might have done this long ago. Same with Dustin Fellowes. In a way, he supposed, he should be thankful Ryder had forced him into these encounters. As if on cue, Ryder was issuing new orders into his ear.
Following instruction, Alex moved from the lounge to the lawn. For the briefest moment he thought he saw movement behind high shrubbery to the side. Deciding it was a rabbit he quickly forgot about it, although figuring he’d offer to help George trim the widly growing foliage around the yard. With his upper body supported on crossed forearms under his masculine chest and his hard, bodacious butt propped up Alex looked over one rounded shoulder and growled, “Fuck me, George.” Appearing stunned at first, George fell over himself getting up from the lounge chair.
Alex’s ass was quite the sight! Two awesome mounds of muscular flesh swelled out from the small of his broad back and cut sharply in to his thick thighs. They were nicely firm, splendidly curving in to form the tempting crevice which separated them. Smooth and practically hairless, they made for a tempting sight. George’s happy cock was throbbing once again.
Repeating Ryder’s dictated words, Alex commanded, “Fuck me hard, George. I’m a man, I can take it. I want your cock all the way up inside me. Don’t go easy on me. I won’t break. I like it rough. Tear up my hole, George. I’ve been wanting you to fuck me for a long, long time.” He really needed to have a conversation with Ryder about his porn film dialogue. Little did he suspect that being the star of one was exactly what he was doing.
In his current condition George believed every word that Alex spoke. He dropped behind Alex, ran his calloused masonry hands over the full mounds of his neighbor’s ass and then slapped them. Hard. Alex grunted. George slapped him again. And again, insanely smiling as he did. When those delectable buns were flushed, stinging and showing his hand print he hefted his dick and ran it through the full length of the smooth trench, leaving a silvery trail of pre-cum in its wake. George decided this guy had the type of ass that was meant to be fucked.
And George did. With all the savage strength he could muster he rammed his eight inch meat into Alex’s succulent, tight hole. When he was all the way in, he grasped Alex by the hips for support, threw back his head and shuddered. Maybe it was all that beer, but damn if it didn’t feel as good as, maybe better than, any of the pussy he’d ever had. Alex’s warm, soft insides were pulsing against his big, thick lance, his clutching ass lips twitching around the base of the submerged cock. George paused to cherish the moment, understanding at last why queer guys fucked.
“Fuck me, George!” Alex echoed Ryder’s prompt. “Fuck me hard, big guy!”
Grinning as if he’d just been crowned King of the Day George eased his meat out of Alex’s grasping hole and quickly slammed back in, enjoying the grunt his action elicited from the younger stud. With each pointed thrust George felt those inner muscles lovingly gripping his battering rod. Most women protested when George got aggressive with them, but he had the idea that Alex would be a perfect match. To test his theory he amped up his action and really tore into Alex’s spasming asshole.
Alex clenched his teeth and took the hard fuck. George was right; he liked to be fucked like a man. He was all muscle and grit and wanted to be used as such. He could handle whatever any man dealt him and still crave more. Who knew George Anderson would turn out to be such a fuck beast? Nice fuckin’ dick on him, too. Ryder didn’t know, and Alex had to be careful he didn’t suspect, but his unwitting son was turning him on to some hot neighborhood cock. Sure, he was playing a bit close to home for comfort, but in a horny pinch it was good to know a short trip two doors down, armed with a six pack, and he could be getting this to take off the daily edge.
Ryder was gleefully watching from his post, impressed with the way Mr. Anderson was throwing it to his father. He had his cam in close up range focused on Alex’s face as he was brutally fucked by the other man. Dad’s normally handsome face showed the unmitigated agony of being pounded by a wild man. He was gnashing his teeth, grimacing, grunting in pain with each gut-wrenching punch and tearing up the grass below with his grasping fists. Sure, Dad was a good actor. He’d had everyone fooled all these years. But, from the way George Anderson was nailing him, Ryder chose to believe this was the real deal.
Skip Harrington by nature was not a nosey neighbor. But it struck him that something fishy was going on over at the Anderson home. Having parked the mower in the back yard shed he’d gone a few rounds on the heavy bag in his work-out corner. Breaking a sweat he stripped off his muscle-t-shirt and wiped his aged face. While his arms and chest were still as pronounced as they were years ago, a result of his daily regimen, all those years spent outdoors on the road crew had taken their toll on his features. It seemed his face was becoming more like a road map. A jolly road map, with twinkling eyes like those of a leprechaun, a tribute to his Irish heritage. He still had his hair. Well, at least most of it, but it had turned to grey years back. Still, his wife’s girlfriends outrageously flirted with him. He was just that kind of guy.
Tucking the t-shirt into the rear of his knee-length jeans he sauntered back to the front yard to inspect his handiwork. His eyes automatically drifted to the Harrington home, which was in need of a bit of lawn maintenance itself. Ever since George’s wife and son had left it seemed George paid little attention to the upkeep of his property. He and Alex had talked about it just a few weeks ago out by their mailboxes.
There was something strange about Alex’s earlier actions. He had seemed almost nervous, like he’d been caught at a wrong-doing. And then, to cap it off, there was the fat, greasy-haired buddy of the eldest Johnson boy making an appearance holding some sort of equipment and obviously sneaking into the Anderson’s backyard. Something was obviously “off” about the entire thing. Instead of edging his front property at curbside he decided to saunter over and have a look.
Theirs was a relatively quiet neighborhood, One car passed as he casually strode down the roadway. The driver, a soccer mom, from down the block smiled and waved. Skip returned the gesture. Nice looking woman with a good body. If he had the chance, he might throw it to her. He certainly didn’t get it at home anymore, not since Sheila’s hysterectomy and her huge weight gain. While he might be getting up there in years his junk still worked nearly as good as it did when he was a younger man.
Glancing in both directions he crossed the street in front of the Anderson home. All seemed quiet. A common fence on the property line separated the Anderson and Fellowes properties. Skip moved on down the roadway a bit until he was at the left side of the house. There was the former home of the Tomlinsons. Old Chester Tomlinson had suffered a fatal heart attack awhile back. Wife Betty hung on for a while but eventually gave in to her daughter’s wishes and moved out west to be with her remaining family. The house had been on the market ever since. At three-fifty most felt she was asking too much for this neighborhood. The fact that the “for sale” sign still stood proved their point.
Stepping off the road and onto the lawn, maintained by a local landscaper, Skip nonchalantly strolled along the fence at the back. His ears perked at the sounds of groaning. What in tarnation was going on over there? Normally one to mind his own business, Skip decided to throw caution to the wind and attempted to peer through the vertical slats of wood. They were too closely interlocked to provide a view. Moving further down the line he lucked out when he encountered an open knot hole in the wood. Succumbing to curiosity he crouched down to the waist-level opening, pressed his eye to it and stifled a gasp when he saw what was taking place in the Anderson’s pool area.
The expression on George’s face was one of a deranged madman. One arm was wrapped under Alex’s taut belly holding him in place while the hand of the other was entangled in the man’s hair, yanking his head backward. Alex appeared caught somewhere between agony and rapture. George’s dick was strobing through the sweaty construction worker’s body so fast it was practically a blur. Ryder was so giddy with excitement he failed to notice the unexpected voyeur on the other side of the fence. The newcomer was rubbing his straining crotch as he took in the unbelievable and unexpected sight.
Alex’s studly body jerked forward with each powerful thrust from George, who yanked him back into place. He was fucking full throttle with no remorse for any discomfort he may have been inflicting upon the other man. Alex’s ass mouth was numb by now, gaping and unable to resist the mind boggling assault. George continued to plow onward, his ball bag swinging to and fro and slapping against Alex’s, causing the bottom’s hard dick to spasm. In his deep, masculine tone Alex groaned and whimpered, part of him wanting it to stop and a larger part wanting it to go on indefinitely. Whereas he’d been ridden hard before, especially by his son, nothing could compare to this. He loved and hated it at the same time.
When he came Alex cried out so loud that if there had been neighbors in the Tomlinson house they would have possibly come running. His muscular body lurched and bucked as wads of cum rocketed from his straining cock, pelting against his heaving chest and feeding the lawn below him. And still George didn’t let up. He continued to batter Alex, completely unaware of the other man’s condition. He was a mad, drunken fucking machine.
Mercifully for Alex (or not) George’s loins betrayed him. A look of utter confusion clouded his features as once-familiar sensations overwhelmed him. Panting heavily and dripping with perspiration he froze, his eyes widened, his dick swelled and hot cum soared up through his urethra, exploding deep inside Alex’s womb. Pulse after pulse filled Alex’s hole to overflowing. Remarkably, Alex was able to squeeze the throbbing cock with his battered ass muscles, further enticing George. Just as it seemed the cum was ceaseless George gave out a strangled groan of defeat and his overworked body buckled. On wobbly legs he managed to rise, made his way to the lounge and threw himself across it, drained and defeated. Alex dropped to his belly on the ground, completely fucked out.
Flabbergasted, Skip rose from his position. The sudden movement attracted Ryder’s attention. High up in the tree house, he was the only one in an advantageous position to have noticed. All he could see was the top of a man’s head. Quickly he left his post, shimmied down the tree and hurried along the side fence. As he got closer he recognized the neighbor from across the street. Skip reacted with a start when he saw Ryder approaching.
“Enjoy the show?” Ryder asked giddily.
“I, uh---” Skip rubbed his jaw, embarrassed by the predicament he now found himself in.
“Didn’t know my dad was a cock hound, did you? That’s alright, not everybody does. But they’re finding out.” Noticing the protuberance in the front of Skip’s shorts he encouraged, “Go on, dude. Stick your dick through that hole. He’ll suck you off.”
Skip looked confused. And somewhat embarrassed. His weathered face had reddened. “What? No, I just---”
“He ain’t gonna know it’s you. Besides, Dad’s a real slut at glory holes. And he gives a pretty decent blow job. I should know. Go on, take out your dick and stick it through. Only one’s gonna know is you and me. And I ain’t tellin’. You can trust me.”
Pretty decent???!!! Ryder seemed to have forgotten Alex could hear everything he said. Pretty decent? He was a fuckin’ pro at it! “Who are you talking to?” Alex demanded. Ryder deliberately ignored him. George, having over-indulged in beer and the best piece of ass he’d ever had seemed to have dozed off and hadn’t a clue as to what was now going on.
“Just do it!” Ryder urged. In his mind Skip knew he shouldn’t. But his hormones were talking a different story. What he’d just witnessed had his johnson stiffer than it had been in many years.
Hauling out his aroused meat he stepped up to the knot hole and poked through. “Look ahead at about eleven o’clock,” Ryder snapped at Alex. Following instruction, as he’d become adept at over the past few weeks, Alex saw the impressive dick. Almost immediately he forgot about the hard fuck he’d just taken from George. This one was a real beaut. Just the type he liked to wrap his lips around down at the glory holes. It was a rigid, pulsating thing, thick and luxurious with deep purple veins throbbing just below the meaty surface. The arc was slight and just enough to please any throat or pussy. Sitting majestically atop its eight-to-nine inches was a wild mushroom of a cock head, huge and wide. This cock had a lot of muscle and gristle. Alex wondered which of Ryder’s delinquent buddies it belonged to until he crawled closer and saw the salt-and-pepper pubes around its trunk-like base. This was the dick of a mature man! But whose?
Alex grasped the manly prick, awestruck when his fingers failed to meet around its spectacular width. He masterfully stroked it, feeling those bloated veins surging under his touch. The anonymous stud’s loins thrust forward, his groin flush with the wooden fence. Alex whimpered with excitement. Squatting before the offering he lashed out with his tongue, gliding it up the hefty underside. Widely stretching his lips he enveloped the fruit-sized head and fervently sucked while thrashing his tongue over it. On the other side, Skip had one side of his face against the fence, his eyes dreamily closed as his hunk neighbor worshipped his meat. Ryder took advantage of the situation to film a bit of footage from his viewpoint with Skip being unaware. He hoped Weebs and Damien were doing the same.
In fact, Weebs was so close to the situation that if Alex hadn’t been so engrossed in worshipping this spectacular dick he might have caught sight from the corner of his eye. Alex’s mouth hungrily moved over several inches of the prick sticking through the hole in the fence. He moaned appreciatively as he took more and more. What a tasty fucking dick! He loved the way those heavy veins throbbed against his lips and tongue. This was a real man’s dick! As he lavished it with lusty attention he became obsessed with uncovering the identity of its owner. He could hear the man breathing heavily from the other side and wished he would vocalize something. Even an “oh, yeah” might give him the opportunity to recognize the voice. This cock was a keeper. His son had no idea how he was favoring him with some prize meat.
Alex took the muscle cock to the back of his throat, humming in sluttish satisfaction around its girth. Skip was on the move, pumping his dick in and out of Alex’s mouth with short, deliberate strokes. His arms were up at chest level, palms against the wood fence. Ryder was impressed by his arms. Dad had nice ones, too, but this older man’s were more thick and strong than sculpted. For a dude pushing sixty Skip really had it going on. He fucked into Alex’s sucking maw for a bit, then pressed his groin tightly to the hole to let Alex take over and eat him. Alex snorted like a pig as he licked and sucked like a starved man, waning to impress this anonymous donor.
He hungrily mouthed the stiff organ, fisting his own cock as he worked. Weebs fought the desire to get behind Ryder’s dad and shove his cock up the man’s ass. By now Damien had left his post and come into the yard placing himself at the opposite side of Ryder’s dad and filming him from that vantage point. He was just as aroused as Weebs, his teen dick out, leaking and having similar thoughts.
Desperate to possess the entire thing, Alex swallowed the spectacular cock down his gullet. Skip groaned as every one of his thick inches was enveloped by his husky neighbor. Alex mashed his face against the fence, Skip’s crotch hair tickling his lips and nostrils as his trained throat muscle did all the work. Skip was literally clawing at the fence and drooling from the side of his mouth. Alex challenged himself, staying down on the cock until he thought he’d pass out from lack of oxygen. He released the prick, knelt there sucking in lung’s full of air and wiping away tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Grasping that dripping cock he corkscrewed his fist around it, admiring its masculine beauty. The head was profusely leaking so he dutifully lapped up the tasty discharge. With a savage growl he went down on it again. This time Skip pulled back, allowed Alex to suck on his head for a short while and then rammed it back down his greedy gullet. For the duration of the encounter Skip would withdraw until the head was almost free of Alex’s throat and then stuff it deep into his esophagus. His thrusts were quick and precise. Sweat trickled from his hairline and his entire torso glistened with perspiration under the hot sun. He fucked Alex’s face like a man half his age.
Ryder detected the signs of a man on the brink of explosion. Skip’s face went flush, his breathing became ragged and the cords along the sides of his neck and temples became pronounced to the point of exploding. With one last strangled groan his entire body shivered and, pulling free of Alex’s throat, he came. Jets of hot jism shot from his cock head, pelting against the back of the other man’s throat. Alex savored the flavorful seed, successfully keeping up with the flow and gulping it down his gullet. He was frantically beating his own meat and, just as Skip’s release dwindled down to a trickle, he blew. The first few surges were so powerful that they splatted against the underside of his chin. Weebs and Damien captured it all with their video cams.
Alex keep mouthing the dick after it had leaked its final drop, wanting to maintain possession of it. Smirking, Ryder captured every second of Skip pulling free from the convenient neighborly hole. The big dick sagged under its own weight, glistening in the sun with Alex’s saliva. For the first time Skip saw the equipment Ryder was holding and said, “What’s that for?” Ryder quickly put a cautious finger to his mouth, signaling Skip to silence as he silenced the microphone while Skip tucked himself back into his shorts. Alex’s ears perked. He knew that voice. He couldn’t place it, but damned if he didn’t know it. Quickly he put his eye to the hole, but Ryder had already ushered Skip away.
“No worries, Mr. Hamilton,” Ryder assured him. “I was only filming below your waist.” It was a lie. He’d taken a good deal of reaction footage. Whether Dweebs used it in the editing process would be later determined.
Casually strolling away from the site Skip inquired, “Why you even taking pictures?”
Pictures? It was much more than still shots. But the neighbor didn’t need know that. Ryder shrugged, “Dad likes to see pics of himself in action. Sucks a mean dick, don’t he?”
“How would you know?” Skip asked, slightly embarrassed at the situation. The kid had just observed his father sucking his dick, after all.
“He does me all the time. Dad can’t keep his mouth off dick. Pretty good at covering it up, ain’t he? You’d never know.”
“No,” Skip agreed. “I wouidn’t. You’re keeping this to yourself, right boy?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Ryder replied a bit too quickly. They were at the edge of the Johnson/Fellowers property line now. “Say, Mr. Hamilton, I can fix you up with Dad again, if you’re interested. I bet he’d really get off on you fucking him with that muscle dick of yours.”
Skip smiled proudly. “We’ll see,” he replied, turned to cross the local road and his own home. Part of him couldn’t believe what had just happened. Another was anxious for a repeat performance.
Damien and Webbs had successfully scampered off into the Fellowes house before Alex could spot them. They watched through slats in the blinds of the sunroom as Alex collected himself, pulled on his shorts, tucked the pink thong into a back pocket, and made his way out of the yard. Instead of heading directly home he went over to the spot on the other side of the fence, hopeful that the unknown man might still be there. Disappointment awaited him. When he later questioned Ryder about his identity Ryder remained mum, just as Alex suspected he would.
He had to find out. He was already longing for that strong, muscular dick.
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