It was one of those sticky summer afternoons where the heat clung to everything, making the air feel heavy and charged. Mom had split three years ago, leaving Dad to rattle around in the old house alone most of the time. At 48, he was still in solid shape, broad chest from years on construction sites, a bit of a gut now, but his arms and shoulders were thick with muscle, and that salt-and-pepper beard gave him this rugged vibe.
Me? I’m Alex, 19, crashing at home between college semesters, trying to sort out my life. Ben, my boyfriend of six months, was over more and more, he was 20, with that lean swimmer’s body, sun-bleached blond hair that always looked messy in the best way, and these blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled. We’d met at a dorm party, bonded over shitty playlists and late-night talks, and now he felt like part of the routine.
Ben showed up around noon, the screen door slapping shut behind him. Dad was out grabbing groceries or something, so we had the place to ourselves. We crashed on the living room couch, the AC humming weakly against the humidity, flipping through channels before settling on some old action flick. Ben’s foot nudged mine, casual at first, then his hand slid onto my knee. “Missed you,” he murmured, leaning in. His lips brushed mine, soft, tasting like the iced coffee he’d grabbed on the way over. I kissed back, deeper, my hand slipping under his tank top to feel the warm, smooth skin of his back.
His tank came off first, tossed aside as I kissed down his neck, tasting the faint salt from the heat outside. My shirt followed, then our shorts, unzipped, pushed down to our ankles, kicked off without breaking the kiss. We were both in our boxers now, grinding against each other, hard and leaking through the fabric. Ben’s hand dipped into mine, wrapping around my cock, stroking slow. “Fuck, Alex,” he breathed, his own dick throbbing against my thigh. I tugged his boxers down, freeing him, long and hard, the head flushed pink, and he did the same to me. We were fully naked now, bodies pressed together, the couch creaking under us as he shifted to straddle me, our cocks rubbing slick and hot.
That’s when the front door opened. Dad. Home way earlier than expected. He stepped in with a couple of grocery bags, keys jingling, and stopped dead. His eyes widened, taking it all in: me on my back, Ben on top, both of us buck-naked, mid-grind, breaths coming fast. The bags slipped a little in his grip, but he caught them. “Christ, boys,” he muttered, voice low and gruff, but not angry. More surprised, maybe a little amused? He set the bags down by the door, rubbing his beard as he straightened up.
Ben froze, face turning red, scrambling off me to grab a throw pillow for cover. I yanked the blanket from the back of the couch, pulling it over us both, heart pounding like a drum. “Dad; shit, sorry, we didn’t hear you.”
Dad just stood there a second, eyes flicking over us, lingering on Ben’s flushed chest, the way his legs were still tangled with mine under the blanket. He exhaled, shaking his head. “Door wasn’t locked. Good thing it was me and not the neighbors.” He didn’t yell or freak out. Just picked up the bags and headed to the kitchen, calling back, “Grab some clothes; we can talk.”
We dressed quick, shorts and tees, no underwear, the adrenaline still buzzing. Ben whispered, “Should I bounce?”
I shook my head. “Nah, he’s chill. Just… embarrassed us more than anything.” In the kitchen, Dad had three cold ones open on the counter. He handed us each one, leaning against the fridge.
“Not mad,” he said, taking a swig. “You’re grown. But be smart about it.” His eyes met Ben’s, holding a beat too long. “Ben, right? Swim team?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, sipping to hide his nerves “Thanks for the beer, Mr. Thompson.”
“Rick,” Dad corrected, smirking a little. “And no problem.”
We ended up back in the living room, beers in hand, the awkwardness fading into small talk. Dad asked about college, Ben’s practices, my part-time job at the warehouse.
The beers went down easy in the heat, loosening everyone up. Dad grabbed a second round, then a third, and the conversation turned personal, him talking about the divorce, how Mom had wanted “something different,” how he’d been single since.
Ben opened up about coming out, his folks being supportive but distant. Dad nodded along, his gaze drifting to Ben more and more, the way his tank clung to his shoulders from the sweat, the easy way he laughed. I felt it too, this undercurrent, like the room was getting warmer.
By the sixth beer, we were all buzzed, the sun slanting low through the windows. Ben’s hand found my knee again, casual, but Dad noticed.
Dad set his bottle down, leaning forward. “Look, I interrupted earlier. Don’t let me kill the vibe.” It came out half-joking, but his eyes were dark, fixed on us.
I laughed nervously. “Dad, come on.”
“I’m serious,” he said, shrugging. “House is hot, we’re all guys here. If you wanna pick up where you left off… go for it.” He adjusted in his chair, and I saw it, the faint outline in his jeans. He was getting hard just thinking about it.
Ben looked at me, eyes questioning, a spark of excitement there. My heart raced, jealousy mixing with this weird thrill.
Dad’s voice dropped. “Been a while for me.”
The air thickened. Ben leaned in, kissing me soft at first, testing. Dad watched, silent. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, and Ben’s hand slid up my shirt.
“Fuck it,” Ben whispered against my lips. He pulled my tee off, then his own. Dad shifted, unbuttoning his flannel slow, letting it fall open to reveal his hairy chest. We all stripped from there, like shedding the tension. Shorts unzipped, pushed down. Dad stood last, jeans and boxers hitting the floor, his cock springing free; thick, veined, cut, and a bush of salt-and-pepper pubes. It was bigger than mine, heavier, curving slightly up as it hardened fully.
Ben’s eyes widened, but he smiled. “Damn, Rick.” Dad chuckled, stroking himself once. We were all naked now, the room smelling like sweat and beer, cocks hard and ready.
Dad stepped closer. “On your knees, Ben.” Ben slid off the couch, taking Dad in his mouth first, lips stretching wide around that thick girth, sucking slow. Dad groaned, hand in Ben’s hair. I watched, stroking myself, mesmerized by the sight of my boyfriend sucking my dad’s cock. Then Ben switched to me, his mouth hot and sloppy, while jerking Dad off. The wet sounds filled the room.
“Upstairs,” Dad grunted eventually, pulling back. “My bed’s bigger.”
We followed him to his room, the sheets rumpled, fan spinning lazy overhead. Dad pushed Ben onto all fours on the mattress. “You want this, kid?” he asked, voice gravelly.
“Fuck yes,” Ben breathed.
Dad grabbed lube from the nightstand, slicking his fingers and cock. He prepped Ben slow, one finger, then two, pushing in until Ben was moaning, ass pushing back. I knelt beside them, watching, my own dick leaking pre-cum as I watched my dad slide his fingers in and out of my boyfriend
“Alex,” Dad said, eyes locking on mine. “Spread his ass for me.”
I swallowed, hands trembling as I gripped Ben’s firm cheeks and pulled them apart. His hole was pink, slick, clenching in anticipation. Dad lined up his cock with Ben’s tight hole; that thick, veined cock pressing against it.
He pushed in slow, the head popping past the rim, stretching Ben wide. I watched up close, mesmerized: Dad’s cock looked massive, the shaft glistening with lube, veins bulging as it disappeared inch by inch into my boyfriend’s tight hole.
The way Ben’s rim gripped it, pulling taut around the girth, made my stomach flip with hot jealousy and arousal. It was so fucking intimate, seeing my own dad’s cock claim what was mine, his heavy balls swinging forward with each thrust.
Dad bottomed out, hips flush against Ben’s ass, and started moving; long, deep strokes that made Ben gasp. “Fuck, he’s gripping me like a vice,” Dad growled. Ben’s moans got louder, raw and desperate. Dad glanced at me. “He’s noisy. Shut him up, son.”
I moved in front, kneeling before Ben. “Open,” I said, guiding my cock to his lips. He took me eagerly, mouth hot and wet, sucking as Dad’s thrusts pushed him forward onto me. It was intense, Ben choking on my dick while Dad pounded him from behind, the rhythm syncing up, wet slaps echoing.
Dad pulled out after a bit, flipping Ben onto his back. “I wanna see his face while he takes your dad’s com.” Ben’s legs went over Dad’s shoulders, and Dad slid back in, deeper this time, the angle making Ben arch and cry out. I watched from the side, stroking myself, but Dad nodded at me. “Get under there, Alex. Watch close. Watch your boyfriends ass stretch around your daddy’s cock.”
My heart hammered, but I was so into it, obsessed with seeing my dad like this, raw and dominant. I slid under them on my back, head underneath Ben’s spread thighs, right under Dad’s balls. They hung heavy, swinging with each thrust, brushing my forehead as I stuck my tongue out to get a taste; sucking on his balls as they slapped against my boyfriends ass.
Up close, it was obscene: Dad’s thick cock plunging in and out of Ben’s hole, his shaft slick and veined, stretching him wide open. The rim clung to it on every pull-back, pink and puffy.
Dad’s balls tightened, slapping against Ben’s ass, the musky scent overwhelming. I was rock-hard, jerking myself furiously, turned on beyond belief by my own dad using my boyfriend like this; powerful, relentless, his grunts mixing with Ben’s muffled moans. I had to stop to keep myself from cumming.
“Fuck, gonna cum,” Dad rasped, hips snapping faster. “Gonna fill your boy up, Alex. Watch it.”
He buried deep inside him, roaring as he unloaded, I could see thick pulses of cum throbbing through his shaft, flooding Ben’s insides.
Cum leaked out around the base, dripping hot onto my face. Dad pulled out slow, his spent cock glistening, still semi-hard, the head smeared with cum.
Dad smirked down at me. “Clean him, son. I wanna see you eat my load out of him.”
I didn’t hesitate, tongue diving in, lapping at the messy hole. Salty, bitter, thick with Dad’s cum. Ben whimpered, grinding back against my face as I swallowed it all, wanting to get a taste of my dad’s cum. The thick and bitter taste of my dad’s load on my tongue caused my own orgasm; spurting ropes of cum across the floor.
We collapsed after; sweaty, sticky, breaths ragged. Dad lit a smoke by the window, exhaling slow. “Good boys.” Ben curled against me, spent. I held him, still tasting Dad’s cum, the image of his cock in Ben’s hole burned into my brain.
