It was always pretty clear I was going to follow in my father’s footsteps and be part of the family business. I guess I’m lucky that Pops wasn’t a ditch digger.
It was a lot of studying and a lot of certifications, but like Pops, I was a qualified chiropractor with a kinesiology degree. It wasn’t my professional dream, but like Pops, I was damn good at it. Like, superstar good.
We became known as chiropractors to the stars, and it was pretty lucrative - and pretty heady, to be honest - to be a set of magic hands for stars of big NFL and college teams. Pops and I were never close, in that back-slapping, best friend kind of way dads and sons can be, but we worked hard as a team.
And I’d kept the magic going after Pops died, kept in demand with elite athletes.
Which is why I was in a desolate airport at fuck me o’clock, stuck in a long layover, about to fall asleep in the Admirals Lounge.
“Your drink, Mr. Warner,” the waiter said, the clinking cubes in my G&T nudging me awake.
Just then, a familiar face popped up on every TV screen - a face I recognized.
Judd Hixson.
Holy shit.
My phone bleated out alarms, alerts popping up with Hix’s face. “Longtime Defenders coach fired.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I stared at the face on those TV screens. Let out a long sign. Felt a familiar twitch in my pants.
Judd Hixson started as the head coach for the Defenders when I was in college, and he was just about to turn 40. Now I wasn't all that far from 40. He’d been the face of that team for…..well, forever. And Hix led the team to four Super Bowl wins.
Hix was part of football royalty. His brother Jason was a coach, too. His son JJ was the third generation in the family business.
Pops took him on in his second season coaching pro as a client. When I started working with Pops, I never knew a time where Hix wasn’t part of our client base. He saw Pops so often, he became a part of the family, winning us quiet Warners over to his team.
I was glad I had on black track pants. They were good at hiding how fucking bricked up I was after seeing Hix and his face on screen for just a few seconds. 61 years old and he looked good, damn good. That crooked grin made him look like a rowdy player, not a veteran coach.
I mean, Judd Hixson was always #1 with a bullet in my spank bank, gold star primo fantasy material. I could lose a year trying to count up the number of times I’d shot a load thinking of him in every imaginable position.
I had to force myself not to watch the viral video of him celebrating after a game, jumping around with the players. I'd shoot two, three times in a row watching that clip.
And I admired him as a man, a tough as nails coach who still had a goofy sense of humor. That receding hairline, flecked with gray, and the layer of softness on top of his lean, muscled frame combined to create some kind of dadbod DILF kryptonite in my brain and in my dick, and any time I was around Hix, shit like talking in full sentences and putting one foot in front of the other got real hard. Just like my dick.
Thing is……Hix not only turned my crank, he rewired it all together long ago. He made my hands shake and my dick twitch. I’d been jonesing for a taste of Hix for twenty fucking years.
But Hix was a client. Touching the goods where Hix was concerned - especially when Pops was still around - was absolutely verboten.
_____________________________________________________________
An hour later, I’m still in shitstorm layover hell. My phone blares, waking me out of an uneasy sleep in my airport lounge chair.
Fuck. It’s Hix.
“Corey Warner, how the hell are you?”
“Hey, Hix, I’m great. What the fuck’s going on? I just saw the news….”
“More about that later. Hey, you gonna be around any time over the next few days? I’d really like to stop by for a session or two.”
I hadn’t seen Hix in a long while. And my dick was twitching so much that doing math in my head to figure out how long was impossible.
“Whatever you need, Hix. How about tomorrow afternoon, around 3?”
I heard Hix exhale on the other end.
“Thanks, Corey. I could really use a total reset.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Judd Hixson was going to be in my office. Just him and me.
_____________________________________________________________________________
“Hey, champ?”
A shiver goes through me as Hix wraps his arms around me, a big bear hug, his height lifting me off the ground a bit.
“Fuck, Corey, hugging you is like hugging a brick shithouse.”
Being next to Hix always reminded me just how short and broad I was compared to him.
For a man who’d just lost a big high-profile job, Hix seemed to be in good spirits. His smile was like fucking sunshine. Captain Energy as always, just like all those viral videos showing Hix jumping around and celebrating after a game.
Pull it together, Warner. Have to keep it professional. Pops would expect no less of me.
I look away as Hix takes off his shirt, trying not to let my brain or my dick short circuit in front of him. Just need to focus.
Easy enough during the first part of our session. I had Hix do some basic range-of-motion moves to assess what he needed. He had a lot of tension in his neck, shoulders and upper back.
I work for almost an hour on his tense spots, trying to stay focused, mostly succeeding. Except for one moment where his hand brushes against me as he was shifting position. I thought I saw a tent in his boxers, but man, I gotta ignore, ignore, ignore. I need to focus.
I yammer on, making small chat on autopilot, but Hix started grumbling about work, and I paid closer attention.
“I know it’s, y’know, the lifespan of a coach’s gig,” he mumbled into the pillow as I worked his shoulders. “When the team doesn’t win, that’s that. Just, we were in rebuilding mode,” he sighed. “Next year’s gonna kick ass, and I won’t be there to enjoy it.”
“Any team would be lucky to have you, Hix,” I said.
“Well, glad you think so. I have some interviews coming up. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I really wanted a reset. Get my mind and body clear, ready for the next challenge.”
“Good idea, coach.”
I reached for the massage oil, pumping a few drops into my hand.
“I think the costochondritis is back, Hix. Gotta do some flexibility exercises to relieve the tension and pressure.”
My hands were shaking as I worked on Hix’s back. Damn it.
Every nerve ending in my body was awake for Hix. I wanted desperately touch him, taste him, breathe him in, but I had to stay professional. Stay focused.
“You’ve really done a great job, Corey. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by more often, checked in. But you’ve kept this practice running. I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own son.”
My own son.
My son.
Fantasy activated, level unlocked.
Oh, fuck.
“Hey, champ….why are your hands shaking?”
I couldn’t say a word, and just kept my focus on my hands, working them on Hix’s back. Fucking beautiful Hix, touching his magnificent skin, a little weathered but still a fucking statue of virility, his torso still a solid, beefy work of art.
“Uh….sorry, Hix. Just…..I apologize. Not myself today, I guess.”
“You’re always so tense, Corey. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you let your hair down.”
“Got a buzz cut, Coach. Not much hair to let down.” I tried to give Hix a halfhearted chuckle, but I was so distracted I couldn’t land it.
“When was the last time you let loose, Corey?” Hix’s voice was low and husky, and that shit wasn’t helping my dick or my shaky hands. At. All.
“Loose, sir?”
Hix sat up, his face and chest glistening with sweat. I looked down at his boxers. That wasn’t a tent….that was a steel fucking girder.
“You’re coiled tighter than a spring, Warner. You gotta release some tension, some steam sometimes. Don’t you have anyone to do that for you?”
Hix stood up. I looked at his big hands, at his big socked feet.
Size 14 triple EEE wide, a voice in my brain said. Such a big fucker.
Hix’s hands were on my shoulders, shoving me up against the wall.
“You in there, Corey?”
Push.
Hix’s voice got all husky. “Get out of your head, Warner. What do you need?”
Fuck, I was soaked with sweat, my hands still shaking.
“Say it, buddy. Say it.”
Push.
“Corey. You okay? What do you fucking need, buddy?”
I couldn’t speak.
I looked Hix square in the eye. Could see the big shit eating grin on his face. He ran his fingers along my cheek.
“Tell me what you need, kiddo.”
I felt like the ground was giving way underneath me. I heard a sound I couldn’t comprehend, and then I realize it was coming from me. Hunger. I needed to fucking touch Hix.
I reached for him, pulled him toward me, hands shaking, sweat pouring down my back, between my pecs, down my furry gut.
Hix grabbed my hands, pulled them up above my head, and slammed up against me, up against the wall, shoving his tongue in my mouth. I almost shot my fucking load right then and there. I fucking tasted Hix.
“Fuck yeah,” he hissed.
I couldn’t take my mouth away from his face. I had to taste every fucking inch of him, bury my nose in his neck.
We stumbled down the hall from the office to my apartment, as I pulled on his boxers and yanked them down. His hard dick made an almost comical sound as it bounced out of his shorts.
“Jesus, Hix. That’s a fuckin’ baseball bat.”
My brain was too fried to do calculations, but Hix was packing at a good solid eight, maybe nine, and that pipe was thick as fuck.
“You like that?” Hix rasped, slapping his hand across his dick as he leaned back on my mattress. “You think you can handle it, Warner?”
I didn’t respond. I need to taste Hix. Everywhere. His hand rests on my shoulder as I dove into his armpits, rubbing my face all over his biceps. I was taking real time inventory of my lifelong fuck fantasy, cataloging every inch of his chest, listening to his heavy breathing, hearing him grunt as I lightly worked my tongue on his nipples.
His hand gently touched my cheek, and I pull his wrist closer, taking every one of his fingers in my mouth.
I hear Hix make an impatient sound. “My turn,” he rasps as he pulls my legs toward him, one hand spreading my legs open, the other lifting me up as his tongue goes to my hole.
Oh shit. Fucking fuck, Hix is eating my fucking hole like a champ. The blond peach fuzz on my ass is getting soaked by Hix’s tongue.
And he’s not stopping. Not at all. I’m in the best kind of fucking torment. I can’t take another fucking second but I don’t want him to ever stop.
The more Hix pushs his tongue and fingers in my hole, the more I whine and moan.
One finger, then a fuckton of lube and a second finger. When Hix works a third finger in my hole and curls his fingers a bit, I see stars.
“You want it, Warner? You need Coach inside you?”
“Yeah, coach. Fuck yeah,” I hiss.
Hix grabs my ankles and gets my feet up on his chest.
I must have a shocked look on my face, because Hix leers at me and says, “Nah, I’m not getting you on all fours. I wanna watch your face.”
He squirts a generous spurt of lube on his dick.
“Damn, Corey. I’ve been dreaming of this ass for years.”
What? What the actual fuck?
“Huh…..seriously?”
“Fuck, I’ve wanted inside that beefy ass for so long.” He’s teasing my hole with his big flared knob. “Guess dreams do come true, right, champ?”
My brain is too focused on a naked Hix in front of me to even process that.
He pushes a few inches into me and I yelp, moaning as the weight and thickness of his dick stretches me open.
I feel more and more of him inside me, and then Hix rocks back and forth, filling me with his thickness, and something clicks in my brain.
It’s a weird, chaotic mix of lust and choked up, repressed feelings, want, desire, and trust.
This might be the most I’ve ever let my guard down around any guy, and it’s Hix. I’d trust him with my life.
“That all you got, Coach?” I say, smirking.
Hix doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to, because he’s picking up speed and intensity until that battering ram dick is hammering my hole. I’m making desperate, hungry noises as he’s filling me up, half begging him to stop, half begging him for more.
The brick walls keep falling in my head. I want more and more and more of Hix.
As he’s pounding my hole, Hix mumbles, maybe offhandedly…..”good boy.”
It’s like a lightning bolt zapping my body. Hix sees it, notices it, and picks up his rutting pace even faster.
“Yeah, such a good boy. My boy. Corey’s my boy.”
“Yeah, Hix. I’m your boy. Always, Hix. Always.”
“So close, Corey.”
Hix roars and I feel his dick twitching inside me as he breeds my hole.
He’s still hard, still thrusting and rocking inside of me.
“Tell me what you need, Corey. I wanna get you there. Tell me, boy.”
He slams a little deeper and harder. Another weird mix of feelings wells up inside of me and starts flooding.
Flooding my face, as my dick spurts, the first shot hitting Hix in the face.
“You.” I yell.
And then another yell, followed by wet, salty tears.
“DAD! Daddy! Fuck, Dad. My dad. I’m your boy, dad. Always, always your boy.”
The cum and the tears are pooling together, and Hix grabs me, pulls me to him, holds me close.
"Dad. I need you, dad. Mine."
“I love you, son," Hix replies, my face in his hands. "You’ll always be my boy. I promise.”
“I love you too, dad.”
I can’t believe what’s escaped from my mouth. Or from his. My deepest fucking need. Held that shit in for decades. Hix got it out of me in one afternoon.
And it fucking came true. Every word is true. Always wanted to be a member of the Hix Fan Club, his fraternity, and now I am. My fucking gorgeous, virile dad.
Almost 40, but I've been waiting my whole life for someone to tell me I'm a good boy. And my dream dad just did.
I’m shaking, still, but I’m in my dad’s arms now, and the more he holds me close, the more perfect I feel. I don’t care how sticky I am, about the drippy seed running out of me. Something inside got rearranged, and now Hix - Dad - is right where he was always supposed to be.
That’s how I fall asleep, in Dad’s arms, his fingers running over my face and through my hair.
“Get some rest, Corey. Such a beautiful boy. Such a good boy.”
_______________________________________________________________________
Fuck, I wanted to spend a week in bed with Hix….well, Dad to me now, but I still had to call him Hix in public.
But I knew he was in a hurry. New team interviews.
I went with him to the airport, to the private lounge. A chartered plane was headed to pick him up and take him to his next batch of interviews.
“Shit,” His said. “Gotta kill some time,”
He looked at me and smirked.
“I bet I could make you cum without touching yourself.”
“You’re good, old man, but you’re not THAT good!”
Hix flashed me an intense look.
“We Hixsons are a competitive bunch, son. You throw down a challenge, we’re on it.”
“Was I a challenge?” I could still taste him on my lips. “You were on me yesterday. All over me, dad. Not that I’m complaining.”
“You better not touch yourself till the next time I see you, son. I want every load to be for me. We can celebrate by me fucking the load out of my sweet son’s dick.”
My dick went from zero to Hey, I’m Here And Can Drill Through Steel in about 5 seconds.
“Corey? There’s already a wet spot on your khakis.”
The crooked smirk on Hix’s face turned my fucking crank, hard.
“I mean it. No touching. Unless you’re taking a piss. You know that ass is mine, right? That dick is mine, son.”
No one was around us, but Hix was still whispering low, right into my ear.
“Tell me you understand, son.”
“Yeah, Dad, just for you,” I promised. “Only for you, dad.”
“Well, mostly only for me,” he said, huffing out a chuckle. “But then again, JJ will be there too. Gotta get my sons together and have some real good, close bonding time. Sticky bonding time. Get you all loaded up with Hixson seed to make your place in the family official.”
I was moaning like a wounded animal, all sweaty and primal again. My fucking paternal jock stud coach dad sex god had the keys to my brain, my dick and my ass, and he was being a smug shit about it, too.
“And if I’m gonna fucking slam into you balls deep, then your uncle Jason will be there too to watch….maybe join in……”
“UHHHUHHGHHH.” I shot. Hard, blinding, intense. So fucking hard. A big batch of ball juice floods through my boxers, drenching my khakis. Someone in the airport must have heard me.
I opened my eyes to see Hix - Dad - with a big shit eating grin on his face.
“You’ll learn, Corey. Get your competition on. You’re a Hixson now.”
The gate agent announced Hix’s chartered flight. He leaned down and gave me a sloppy kiss, all tongue, rough but tender too, kinda like Dad himself.
He kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair.
“I’ll keep you posted, son.”
I watched my buddy, my family friend, my dad, my future husband walk away, knowing our adventures were just starting.
But fuck, I needed to clean up my khakis first……..
