My Son’s Help

I guess it's inevitable. There comes a time when the son outmans the father.

Of course Eric would deny it in his usual humble way. He'd say "Dad, you'll always be top dog, you know that?" He'd wear his hero worship on his sleeve. But I was barreling well into my middle aged years and Eric was a muscular 25 year old who already packed more power on his young medium-short frame than I ever did in my 20s.

It all became apparent when I threw my back out working out on my land, and the doctor told me I had to take it easy for a few weeks. I almost didn't tell Eric but I thought Cliff, you'd be a goddamn hypocrite after the number of times you told your boy he could tell you anything. So I called Eric up for our weekly chat and mentioned my back problems.

"Gawd, Pop, you OK?"

"It's nothing serious son, I just have to lay off it a while. Doc says I need to leave the chores be for at least three weeks."

"Doc must not have seen the ranch," Eric joked.

He had a point. The land needed tending to, especially this time of year.

"I'll come up, Pop," my son continued. "Help you clear the underbrush. I can come up this weekend."

"Don't you dare. I can manage. Honest." I had that obstinate Harris family pride in me, injury or no.

"I'm not arguing about this, Pop. See ya Saturday."

That Saturday bright and early, he drove the four and a half hours to our country place. I'd just gotten a terse text, "Leaving," and around 11 I saw his pickup come down the dusty long driveway.

When he got out, he was shirtless and wearing just a pair of faded jeans. It had been a few months since I'd seen my boy and every time I swear he's packed on more muscle, about 50 percent conditioned by manual labor tasks, 50 percent pumping iron in his spare time. His shorter frame means his pectorals push outward with a slight downward curl, balanced only by the bulking shoulders and the nearly cantaloupe sized biceps. It was early in the summer still but already Eric had a rich Texan tan to complement the blonde highlights in his short brown hair.

The summer sun was coming down good. and I walked out off the porch, shirtless myself and dressed casually in a pair of shorts just in time to see him put the fallen barbed wire fence back in order then get back in his truck to drive the remainder of the way.

"How ya feeling Pop?" he asked, his voice was now deep, deeper than we started this crazy romance or whatever the fuck it was we had going on.

"Fine, damnit. You shouldn't have driven all the way up here," I admonished him. "You got a wife and a kid to look after."

Eric wiped the bit of sweat of his brow and I could see the tuft of fine hair in his arm pit. I don't know how he found time for a full time job and family life and still hit the gym as religiously as he did, but his arms were unbelievably pumped, the rest of his muscle perfectly formed and hard in tone. "They're fine, Pop, and they send you their regards." He gave me a look that told me he didn't want to hear any more argument then clasped me in a strong, really strong hug. I'm pretty built myself and returned it the best I could.

"Ha, you still got it, Pop," he observed.

I showed him inside and offered him some iced tea and we caught up a bit, our eyes communicating so much beneath the banal conversation, before Eric insisted he wanted to get a start on the yard work. "I figured I'd take care of those dead bushes first," he said, laying out his plan of attack.

"Let me help you." I put in, staring to stand up.

"No sir. You're staying off that back for now."

I grumbled, but my son was right. It didn't feel right watching him do all the work, so I went inside and watched the Rangers game and took a nap.

Eric must have been pretty efficient, but truth was, I wasn't sure how long I was out. All I knew was the sun was at a late afternoon angle as I woke from my nap as Eric kissed up the back of my calves, knees, and thighs. I stirred and felt Eric's firm hand on the small of my back.

"Hold still," he urged and went back to licking up the inside of my legs, one then the other.

"Chase likes it when I do this," he announced and pulled down my shorts, exposing my hairy dadrump. He gave a soft appreciative his as his fingers touched my naked buttocks, then he went back down, licking up higher, to the cleft between my buns. Chase was his best friend from work and standing fuck buddy. I knew all about his arrangement with Chase. Like it had been for me, one woman wasn't enough to satisfy Eric's high libido and he regularly got relief on the side.

"God, that's nice," I moaned, as as my son parted my buns and pushed his face deeper, eating away at my hole. His tongue was soft and gentle against my sensitive hole, making my tension start to drain from my body.

I let Eric do his work, and I can say without bias that my boy is really fucking talented. I don't know if it was the practice he got with Chase or if he was a natural, but after a while I was downright squirming on his tongue and bucking my hairy butt against his munching mouth.

He was going deeper now, pushing his skilled tongue deeper and deeper into my pucker, lapping and drilling me to a horny but relaxed state.

Then came the words I knew I'd heard some day but dreaded.

"I'm ready to fuck you, Pop."

Simple. Declarative. His words sent a shiver down my spine. In all the times we'd fooled around we'd never done that. Him fucking me. So this was a new line to cross and as much as might have wanted to cross it with my boy, I was apprehensive as hell.

Then there were the words themselves. Eric wasn't asking me, or saying he wanted to fuck me. He said he was ready. Factual.

I didn't nod my assent because none was asked of me. Instead I lay still as Eric stretched out on me and reached over to my night stand. His body was rock hard in its musculature and felt just the right amount of weight on my back. He fumbled around for the lube. I looked over, seeing if he was gonna grab a rubber too, but he shut the drawer.

Eric softly kissed against my neck. "First time's gonna be bare, Pop," he said, reading my mind. "After that I'll suit up if you want me to."

I was shaking as he placed his lubed cockhead at my back entrance. Eric knelt up and with his left hand soothed my back in soft caressing motions. "It's OK, Pop. I've learned how to do this right. Trust me, sir."

I nodded and felt the initial penetration. I knew it was too much and miraculously Eric stopped. The process repeated. Slowly, he stretched and entered my hole, retreating just at the right moment, only to start the process again.

Once more, I had no idea about the passage of time, but it was getting closer to sunset. Other than crickets it was quiet outside. It felt like my son and I were in our own private space, bonding in our private way.

Gradually I felt my tight hole accommodate my only son's prick and felt more and more of his sizable endowment ease into me. I could feel his heart beat throb through the hardness of his cock inside me.

"You're so tight, Pop," my boy said. "You're cherry, aren't ya?"

"Yah," I answered. "You got it, son." The face down position was probably the best for my back anyway, but it felt like a fitting position for this first time. Eric mounting me, possessing me with all of his body and his strength.

I could almost hear my son smile as he pulled back and entered me. Then again. My firstborn was fucking me and I gripped the sheets, not in pain but in pure pleasure.

"I knew you'd like it Pop," he hissed excitedly, thrusting into me steadily, with command.

He changed angle and it was like an intense pleasure switched switched in me. Like, all I could think of was cumming and frantically I tried to thrust against the sheet so the friction would get me there.

With a strong heave, Eric lifted my body up into a doggie position. "Not yet, Pop," he said, confidently as he fucked at this new angle. I lifted my upper body with my arms and steadied myself while my son thrust firmly into me. My prick was now shaking and even without any contact I knew I'd go off soon.

He quickened his pace now, not impetuously, but powerful, confident in his thrusts. He was really hitting my internal spot, over and over, with glorious precision.

"You like that, Pop," he said. Again, a statement, not a question.

"God, son, fuck me," I breathed. It felt horny and nasty to say it aloud, and the weight of my words hung heavy in the air. Eric pushed in with more force, more intensity. He felt it, too.

For all the internal pleasure my boy was giving me, it was when I felt his strong hands grip my waist possessively that I lost it.

"Goddamnit!" I cried and my dick started shooting, hands free, all over my sheets.

"Whoa, Pop," Eric exclaimed and I heard his breaths get quicker as he worked his own cock toward his finish inside me.

If you've never witnessed your own son having his orgasm, it's an amazing indescribable experience. Face down with Eric mounted on my back, thrusting heavily into me in the heat of his ejaculation, I couldn't see his face or his expressions but it felt every bit of his presence, his penultimate pleasure. The idea I was the one who enabled it, that it was the first time he was orgasming inside me, that idea alone made my postcoital body shiver.

His come seemed to go on forever, or maybe that just was my perception. Eric filled me up with his essence, and his body relaxed on top of me, his breath heavy against my neck as he kissed my head appreciatively.

"Thanks, Pop."

We uncoupled and showered lathering up each other's muscles. Eric's of course were harder and bigger than mine, but that didn't stop my boy from being grateful as he explored his father's middle-aged bod.

"What do you think about enjoying the porch in our birthday suit?" Eric asked as we toweled off. "It's something I can't do in the suburbs."

"Guess not," I laughed.

I brought us out a couple of Shiner longnecks and we enjoyed the still dusk. My hole felt stretched and on the cusp of sore, but in a good way, I decided. I looked over at my son. "Guess I'm not top dog anymore," I said. Maybe more than a hint of sadness in my voice.

"Sure you are, Pop," my boy said, taking a much-earned swill of ice cold brew. "It's just that, well, in the sack, I've discovered I really prefer being top dog." He gave me a challenging look. It was that confidence that caught me off guard. My young Eric, my son, all grown up now. A man.

"I can tell," I said. "You're really good at it, too." I didn't want to admit that, but after his performance just now, I couldn't deny him the compliment.

He took another sip. I knew the first one would go down fast. I should have brought an extra beer for each of us. "Damn, I wish I lived closer, Pop."

"Not much work around here," I countered. "Besides, you got Chase around."

He smiled a knowing smile. "Chase is great, sir." He drew another sip. He looked content and relaxed, even tired. I think the heat and yard work and sex had taken some energy out of him, even despite his youthful vigor. "But it's not the kind of rush you get fucking your daddy, you know?" God, those words were so profoundly taboo and sexual, yet directly emotional.

"Is that all it was, son? A rush knocking your old man down a peg?" Despite the undeniable bond Eric and I had, I felt a little vulnerable at that moment.

"Aw Pop, don't start with that. You know it's more than that. Besides, you liked it, too. I know ya did."

"Yeah, I did." I sighed. Because my boy was right.

"Takes a man to admit that, Pop," Eric said and spread his legs, letting the night breeze blow across his sated genitals.

I copied him, deciding to be content in the moment and put off any self-doubt till my son had gone back to his suburban life. For now, it was just us Harris men enjoying a country night, bachelor style.

We talked for a while, about life, about the future. I asked if he and Kate were planning on having more kids.

"We want to," he said. "We'll wait a couple of years until Coop's older. One toddler's a handful, a lot harder than clearing Texas brush."

"Ha," I laughed. "Try getting old like me."

Eric gave a half-joking rebuke. "Damn Pop if you're gonna get weepy on me, I can pack up the truck and head back home." Then nudging my knee he said, picking up our empty bottles, "Here, let me get us a couple more."

I was buzzed between the pain killer and the brew but it felt like such a perfect night to have a drink with my boy. I nodded.

"I got something to say," he announced as he returned with two cold ones and plopped back in the porch seat. "I've looked up to you all my life, Pops. I'm the man you taught me to be, or at least I've tried to be. And I'm always gonna be looking up to you. That's how it's gonna be, no matter how old you get or how often you throw out that goddamn back, sir." He let the words hang in the still summer air, as a statement of finality.

"Damn, son," I finally said, taking a swill of cool beer to wet my suddenly parched throat. "I couldn't have raised a finer man."

And then we didn't talk. We didn't have to. It was getting dark out, but with enough moonlight that I could see his face, looking at me between silent gazes out on to the land. And I could see the soft fur of his muscular legs as they stuck out, half spread, casually as if to let his heavy manly testicles to nestle in a gentle rest between the power of his thighs. I could see my son's dick lengthen, not in a rush but gradually stretching out in length, till the firmness made it pop up at an angle, pointing up higher. My son has a beautiful cock, thick and meaty and decently hung.

Yeah, I could tell my strapping 25 year old of a son was growing erect again. Not urgent in his need, but getting his drive back in post-sex recovery.

His daddy's bone took longer to recharge but soon I was throwing hard in the humid night air. We sat there naked and erect, sipping our beers and eyeing each other's body with more regularity. It was a silent acknowledgment between us.

I was too scared of breaking the spell between us. Thankfully, Eric spoke up first. "You sore down there?" A simple question but one a guess not a lot of sons ask their daddies.

I clenched my pucker, feeling suddenly aware again of its presence. "Tender. But I'm good."

He set down his beer and stood up. Five feet ten inches of pure 25 year old brawn that towered over me at the moment. I thought maybe he was gonna step up for a BJ but he paused about two feet in front of me. "I wanna screw you out here, out in the open." He fixed my gaze and let the words sink in. "You up for that, Pop?"

I nodded yes. Unconsciously my legs spread, letting him step forward and kneel between them.

Our lips met, moist from the night's humidity and our own spittle. Eric passing his tongue to me, and me returning the gesture. My hardon thwapped hard against my hard hairy belly, and I could feel the sexual intensity building up in my son.

He leaned back and with a slight tug on my knees gestured for me to lift my legs. I leaned back in the chair and did just that.

"Your back OK like this?" He asked with concern.

"Yah, son," I acknowledged in a croak. "I'm good."

Eric wasted no time, placing his face right at my trench and licking. Like before. God, he was a master at this, and I wasn't sure if he was doing this for my benefit or if he really just loved eating out an ass. Maybe it was my hole specifically that he loved to tongue, cause he seemed crazed as he did it, prodding his tongue deeper and deeper.

"I can taste my sperm in you, sir," he said in a hoarse voice as he leaned back and surveyed his handiwork. My relaxed, open anus, wet with his saliva and the trickles of the son load.

It was enough to lube Eric's penetration. It went much quicker than earlier, and I thought how amazing it was that he'd got me to accommodate him so quickly. It was still tough once he started thrusting but he went easy once he saw me wince. "We'll take this one slow, Pop," he muttered, kissing me softly as he screwed me.

We made love, no other way to put it, under the stars and the Texas night. "I'll come again in a couple of weeks, Pop," he said after one intense kiss. "Maybe bring Chase with me."

I nodded. It was Eric bringing me into his world. Or his world into what we had. I knew I could trust him. Or maybe my horns were taking control, sending thoughts of me fucking Eric's handsome, blond city-boy hunk of a best friend while I got buggered from behind. Or both dudes taking turns on my dad hole. It was like Eric could read my thoughts 'cause his pace picked up, pushing his rigid son cock into me harder and faster as he held my legs up.

I was closing in on orgasm, and I could tell my son was getting there, too. "You gonna come?" I asked, wanting so bad to get to that magic place at the same time as Eric.

This time he the one without words. He just choked out a cry that I interpreted as "yeah" and all of a sudden we were doing it. Simultaneous ejaculations. Eric deep inside my guts for the second time today, me all over my curled up torso. Being able to watch his face this time, and him to watch mine was priceless.

"Damn, Pop, you're one stud," he said as he leaned down to make out once more. Funny, I should have been the one to compliment him on his manliness and his fucking prowess, but I could tell he was sincere.

By the time I got up and washed the spermy residue off my body, I realized that I was incredibly sleepy. The fuck had been the last straw. My eyes were drooping as I walked out.

"Ready to call it a night, huh, Pop? I'll join you as soon as I brush my teeth."

I crawled into my bed and was nearly already asleep when Eric's warm naked body spooned next to mine. "Good night, sir. I'll probably leave bright and early in the morning. Gotta get back to Dallas." He gave a soft kiss on the back of my neck.

I nodded, feeling content. Then sleep overcame me.