Stuffed

Here's one from my second season of Thanksgiving Tales a little while back. More still to come...

“You two going to be OK?” Mandy said as I put the remnants of lunch in the fridge. “I can call Susie and tell her…”

“No, go on ahead,” I said. “It’s good for you to spend time together, and I’m sure she could use the help. We’ll be over in a couple hours.”

“Lucky you,” she said, rolling her eyes. My sister-in-law was a world-class pain in the ass, her husband was, to put it mildly, a jackass, and their kids weren’t showing much signs of transcending their genetic limitations, either. Every year since they’d moved here, they’d insisted on doing family dinner on Thanksgiving, and over time, Mandy and me had managed to cut our time over there as short as possible. But Susie was her sister, and she felt obligated to help her put together the meal that nobody honestly felt much like eating by that point in the day. Grady and me were both relieved when Mandy had offered us the option of going over later in the afternoon, a couple years back, knowing just how much Douchebag David and their kids - “Lil Douchebag Davis and Douchebagette Dayna,” Grady had called them on the ride home two Thanksgivings ago, making even Mandy nearly choke with laughter - rubbed us the wrong way.

Mandy sighed, squared her shoulders, and hooked her purse over her shoulder, as I pressed her car keys into her hand and walked her to the door, giving her supple ass a squeeze along the way.

“You’d better not forget the wine, or I’ll cut your damn balls off,” she said, maybe only half-jokingly, but smiling as she did.

“Hey now, I plan to get you nice and toasted, so I can bring you home and have my way with you later on,” I said, giving her a lingering kiss on the lips.

“Promises, promises,” she said, reaching down to give my package a playful squeeze and kissing me back. I could feel my piece stirring at the touch, and I briefly pondered the idea of walking her back into the guest bedroom by the front door and making her a little late. But then Susie would just be blowing up her phone, being an even bigger pain in the ass, and the one thing I’d come to learn as a grown man with idiot in-laws was that Thanksgiving was really mostly about minimizing conflict, and minimizing the time you had to spend with stupid people you were semi-related to. So I gave her ass another intimate squeeze, kissed her once more, longer to show her I meant it, and watched her walk out to her car with a little spring in her step.

Thinking about making my wife shake and moan her way through her orgasm later tonight was definitely keeping my piece on the boil inside my jeans, stirring and filling out in my shorts. But it was the sight that greeted me in the living room - my big kid, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, all ass and thighs and shoulders and cleancut blond hair, already snoring as the pregame hosts yammered away on the TV, that sparked serious interest downstairs.

If ever a dude was born to wear jeans, it was my boy. I filled mine out pretty damn respectably myself, even now in my 40s, but Grady had definitely not only inherited my genes, he’d improved on them. All that baseball training since he was a kid had honed his thighs into twin pillars of solid power, with a perky, rounded set of glutes to match. The seam of his Levi’s, running down the cleft of his ass, just highlighted the peachiness of his jock tail, accentuating the solid, rounded musculature of his rump. I felt my cock really thrumming now, and I gave it a friendly, lingering squeeze with one hand, as the other reached out and down to trail up and down the thick muscle of my boy’s jeans-clad calf.

I let my hand rove further up, up his inner thigh, over the warmth of the denim stretched just tightly enough over the bigness of his limb, grinning at the way he spread those thick stems wider, reflexively, even in his light sleep. The soft murmur he let out as my fingers trailed slowly upwards, the way the shift of his spreading thighs made his ass bulge even more beautifully. The way my cockbulge throbbed under my palm as I stroked my way upwards, his thighs pushing wider, presenting his perfect form to me even better.

I guess it was the slow squeeze of my hand on the meat of his thigh, right up below his ass, my thumb caressing the upslope of his glute, that brought him up from his doze. He stirred, muttered wordlessly, slowly blinked his eyes open as he looked up over his shoulder and smiled sleepily at me, in a way that just reminded me of the cute kid he’d always been, still very much alive inside the body of the hot young man he’d rapidly grown into. They say we’re at our most unguarded when we first wake up, and the honesty of that smile, the way his handsome face looked up at me, made my heart and guts throb with love for my big guy. My one and only son.

“Mmmmm, nice,” he said, cracking a yawn as he twisted around to look up at me, not coincidentally pushing that fine ass up against my hand more. “Mom get away OK?”

“Yep,” I said, slowly squeezing the meat of my palm against the dense-packed muscle encased in his jeans. “Just us guys for the next couple hours.”

“Hell yeah,” he grinned, pushing his ass back against my groping hand even more, looking down at the tent I was throwing in my jeans now. Not quite a full-blown dad bone, but rapidly getting there.

I put one knee up on the couch between his shins and ran both hands up the backs of his thighs, letting out an appreciative sound at the way the muscular flesh yielded, all thick and firm, yet pliant at the same time inside the denim.

“You wanna watch the game with me, big guy?” he said, the edge of a happy sigh in his voice as I manhandled him.

“Not really,” I growled, as my big hands reached those twin mounds of muscle packing the seat of his jeans, giving them a deep squeeze as I leaned in close and pushed my face into the seam separating them.

“Yeah, me either,” he grunted back, pushing his ass back against my face, his hips rising up off the leather couch cushion, my hands gripping his big quads as I buried my face in his stellar baseball-stud ass.

There was something so wanton and lusty and hungry about chewing on my kid’s prime tail like this, but I’d always been a hungry guy, and a belly full of Thanksgiving turkey and pie wasn’t going to stop me. Grady wasn’t going to stop me either - if anything, his grunts and growls and the eager way he bucked his buff butt back against my burrowing face were just spurring me on even more. I reached around his hip and found the crotch of his jeans full of hard teenage cock, big and strong and thick like his old man’s, and gave it a very friendly squeeze that got me even more of a faceful of his beautiful rump.

I slid my other hand up under his sweatshirt and the T-shirt beneath it, up the strong muscles of his core and the little thatch of blond fur that was coming in stronger on his stomach, up to find the thick muscles of his pecs, and the stiff peaks of his nips standing proud from them. My other hand worked his belt buckle open, then unsnapped the button of his jeans. He reached down to help me out, helping himself out of his jeans as he undid his zipper, giving my hand access to the stretched cotton of his underwear, and the hot throb of his big young dick inside of them.

“Fuck, Dad,” he grunted, his voice lusty and all man as his hand closed over the top of mine and squeezed, helping me feel how hard he was for me, and this, and us. I took a firm, but gentle hold of his big fuckstick through his underwear, my thumb grazing over the bulge of his cockhead, feeling the fabric start to get moist and sticky as he got to leaking from being handled. He’d always been a tactile kid, and he’d definitely carried that trait on into his young manhood, only in a much better way now. A big kid, built tough, able to handle it, and be handled like the man he was.

I came up out of his ass long enough to yank his jeans down over it, freeing it and admiring it, all big and firm and shapely in his boxer trunks. I gave the boxy muscle a playful smack that made the solid flesh jiggle in a way that sent a charge all the way down to the tip of my throbbing cock. He moaned and pushed his ass back again, and this time I leaned in and gave his right glute a little bite that made him chuckle and growl and grab the back of my head.

“You fucking stud, Dad,” he said, his voice all husky and dripping with heat as he looked over his big shoulder at me, cheeks flushed, eyes all lusty.

“No, you’re the fucking stud, big guy,” I growled back, sliding up the length of him, covering his big bod with my own as I took hold of his chin, turning his face back so our lips could meet, connecting hard and hungrily, grunting into each other’s mouths as our moist tongues found each other and got to work.

The kiss was intense as hell, all wet and somehow muscular, deeply masculine, tongues battling, spit flowing, his big arm slung around my neck to hold me close, even in the awkward position we were in. My back was starting to twinge a little, honestly, but even if it was starting to betray my middle-agedness, I was feeling like the horniest fucking teenager in the world. A horny teenager like my boy, this hot, virile young dude I was making out with, kissing me back with skill that made my mouth water, my cock throb, and my guts glow with pride at the natural-born stud I’d helped create.

Grady broke our tongue-lock off long enough to twist around onto his back, big thighs pistoning as he kicked his jeans the rest of the way off, the muscles bulging and flexing under the golden skin and young fur stretched taut across their thickness. His cock was an obscenely hard tent in his trunks, his shirt and sweater rucked halfway up his muscular midsection. But I didn’t have much time to admire the hot, lusty sight of him, all on fire for me, before he was grabbing at my belt.

“Get these fucking jeans off, big guy,” he panted. “C’mon, I wanna play, Dad.”

Jesus christ, he used to use those exact same words when he wanted to go outside and play catch when he was a kid, and as wrong as it was to think that way, that just made the here and now even more intense and hot and deep. I knocked his fumbling hands away from my belt, taking over from him as he yanked his sweater and T-shirt up and off his solid young ballplayer’s frame. The coaches up at Tech next year were gonna have him not just big like he was now, but brawny, and I found myself looking forward to that even more.

But damn, he looked pretty fucking amazing just as he was, grinning up at me with a mix of pleasure and joy as I yanked my old long-sleeved Tech T-shirt off, his eyes roving over my bigger, thicker, more mature frame with lusty appreciation. I took a moment to let him survey my form, the way my big Dad cock was tenting my boxer briefs obscenely, just like his sporty little Nike trunks accentuated the lusty hardness of his big teenage bone. When his eyes looked up and met mine, that eager grin splitting his face, I knew it was time to do more than look each other over. It was time to get to work.

Grady’s big legs locked tight around my trunk as we went deep in our dad-son kiss, tongues smearing spit all over each other as they wrestled, heads shifting right and left, angling to kiss each other deeper, alternating between sucking on and feeding each other the thick, wet, agile muscles. Our superhard cocks ground against each other, making the fabric of our underwear cling stickily as we ground and rutted together, Grady’s big mitts clapping down on the thick muscles of my ass, his big, strong young thighs squeezing my flanks like a rider spurring me on.

I could’ve made out deep and hard and wet with the kid all damn day - wouldn’t be the first time we’d spent an afternoon just getting down like that - but the clock was ticking, and there was more we both wanted to do with each other. I extracted my tongue from his mouth and pushed myself up on one hand, rubbing over his big young pecs appreciatively with the other, as he ran his hands up my lats, over the bunched muscles of my shoulders, and down the thickness of my upper arms. Just digging on each other for a quiet couple of minutes, appreciating each other for the men we were. Especially for the man he’d fast become, and was still becoming. Our cocks throbbed against each other through the moist stretch of our underwear as our breathing slowed down again, the start of the football game on the TV white noise in the background as we dialed back the intensity a little, and let the masculine intimacy we both loved just as much take over for a minute. A lot of guys Grady’s age were all hardon, no finesse, and while that could be fun and hot in its own way, I took my father’s role as a mentor and guide seriously. I aimed to send my kid off to Tech next fall as a lover, not just a fucker.

All that touching and exploring and admiring led naturally to more kissing, slower and more sensual this time, as we wrapped our strong bodies around each other and just dug the masculine intimacy of our special vibe. Setting the table for the next course, as I slid one hand down his hip and inside his little trunks, exploring the indent of his muscled ass, then the hard, but pliant curve of his gluteal muscle, making him hunch and hump his hard cockbulge against mine slowly and lustily.

“You got something else for your Dad, big guy?” I said after a few slow, hot minutes of that.

“Fuckin’ A I do,” he grinned. “You got something for me too, Dad?”

“Bet your fine fuckin’ ass, sport,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s the general idea,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss me for a brief, hot stretch before rolling back onto his stomach.

As fine as his ass had looked in his jeans, it looked even better encased in the thin material of his underwear, and when I peeled his trunks down over those twin mounds, it was like unwrapping the best Christmas present ever, a whole month early. His cheeks were creamy and dusted with gold fur, growing thicker all the time, it seemed, just like the hair on his belly and across the top of his chest. Even more thick golden fur awaited me in the deep crevice of his jockboy ass, tickling against my holiday stubble as I buried my face in his musky cleft, nuzzling and licking, thumbs digging deep into the meat of his inner cheeks as I spread him open, exposing the pink knot of his hole, all tight and practically pulsing. I pressed my lips to it in a soft kiss, then grazed it with my tongue, real lightly at first, giving it more focused, slow swabs as I got more and more into it, as he bucked his fine tail back at my face and moaned for more.

So tight, and hot, and definitely pulsing inside, as I licked my way into him, tasting his secret space, the first and so far only person to explore him like this. For now, this was still all mine, and I gave his musky, sweat-tangy ass the lusty appreciation it deserved, showing my boy how a man could and should make him feel. Showing him how good a man can feel with another man this intimate with him. I’d been a pretty much equal-opportunity ass and pussy man since college, and I ate him out the way I’d learned to do pretty damn well over twenty or so years, my cock thrumming away and leaking into my shorts as my boy ground his hips and ass, moaning and grunting and pushing back, craving more of this very special treatment. I reached under him, finding his big cock as hard as ever, capturing the steady flow of precum leaking from the fat tip of it, then laid his own juices down over his glistening hole and pushed them back inside of him with my tongue.

“Fuck,” he half-whimpered into the armrest of the couch. “You gotta fuck me, Dad… please…”

“Yeah buddy, I do,” I said, my voice all husky with desire, coming up for air, wiping the glaze of spit off my stubbled chin. “I really do.”

“Pouch of my sweatshirt,” he murmured, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. I grinned to myself at the sheer sexiness of it, my big teen jock kid preparing for this like that, as I reached into his discarded sweater’s front pocket and found the little travel-size bottle of lube he’d stashed there.

“Pretty damn sure how this was gonna play out, weren’t ya, buddy?” I said with a wink and a grin, giving his prime ass another playful smack as he reached for the front of my boxer briefs and tugged them down, freeing the big hardness of my cock.

“Yeah Dad,” he said, looking up at me, eyes all big and blue and earnest, as he wrapped one ballplayer’s hand round my shaft and tugged me closer to his mouth. “Weren’t you?”

All I could do was moan in response, my fingers tangling in his thick blond hair, as he slurped his way sloppily down most of the length of my cock, working his soft lips up and down the shaft, pre-coating me with his own natural lube before I laid down a topcoat of the serious stuff.

With all the practice we’d had over a year or so now, with all the munching and licking and sucking on each other, with the thick slick of lube on the big dick I’d made him with and another on the tight clutch of his ass ring, sliding into him was effortless. I took it slow anyway, savoring the buttery tightness of him, the way the big muscles of his back and shoulders bunched up, the flex and dimple of his big, boxy glutes as he opened up and let me into him deep, moaning for me as I sank my full length slowly inside him.

Fuck yeah. Nothing like this. Nothing at all. Not just fucking my way inside of a guy - fucking my way into my son, my one and only, the thing I loved more than anything else on this earth. Even better than that, the way he fucked himself back on me, showing me how much he loved it. Both of us showing how much we loved each other, as I filled him up and he took me deep.

We fucked, sure, but more than that, we made love, thrusting my paternal thickness up into his tight, hot, clutching insides, the couch squeaking beneath us, the game announcers making words in the background, and over it all, the slow-building pace of our breathing, the depth of our grunts, the pitch of our moans as we built higher and higher. Before long, the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of my hips against the fine, muscular curvature of his ass, the steady panting chant of his husky, manly young voice, moaning “Fuck me Dad, fuck me, fuck me, ah fuck me Dad…” in a way that sent an electric buzz right down to the base of my balls.

“Love you so fuckin’ much, lil buddy,” I panted, the sheen of sweat on my forehead matching the one making the bulging muscles of his back gleam.

“Fuckin’ love you too, sir,” he moaned back, looking over his shoulder at me with hazy, hooded blue eyes that were totally sincere. “So much, Dad.”

“So much, son,” I groaned back, and the depth and intensity of the whole scene twinned with the physical sensations we were both thrilling to started sizzling through my guts. I felt that spark in my loins kindling into a fire, the fast-moving blaze of my orgasm building swift and powerful as I thrust and thrust and thrust, Grady nodding and pushing back at me.

“Do it, Dad,” he moaned. “Cum in me. Breed your boy.”

“Aw fuck, big guy,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “Gonna do it. Dad’s gonna cum in you, buddy.”

“Aw yeahhhhh,” he said, moaning through a deep, blissful smile, and I leaned in, pressed my lips and tongue to the sweaty thickness of his neck, and plowed the biggest load I’d shot all damn month inside my big, strong, handsome kid. My hand groped beneath his solid, sweaty frame, found the thrumming, sticky length of his big teen dick, and with no more than two, three strokes, he was blasting his own thick load across the couch cushion, pulsing and tightening around my cock as he gasped and grunted and shot his hot seed onto his T-shirt spread beneath him.

Grady butted his sweaty head back against me as I wrapped my arms tight round his big trunk, sweat cooling on our skin as we pressed tight to each other, my lips nuzzling his ear as I slowly softened inside him.

“You’re the best, Dad,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ good, big guy.”

“You bring it out in me, kiddo,” I said, kissing his sweaty temple. “Every time.”

“Guess that makes me my father’s son, huh,” he chuckled, as we worked our faces close enough to kiss, slow and wet and deep.

A little later, over at Susie and David’s, I watched him practically inhale a heaping plate of turkey, scalloped potatoes and green bean casserole, with a couple of buttered rolls to boot. A big, growing boy, a happy look on his face as he digested his second big meal of the day. Hell, with all our activity this afternoon, I was pretty damn hungry myself. I was proud as hell of him. I loved the kid to bits, in every damn way. Mandy sipped her second glass of wine and squeezed her hand in mine, while Grady’s big knee grazed lazily against mine under the table, and in that moment, I was probably the most contented man on earth.

“Well, it’s nice to see a boy with a real appetite,” Susie said, and for once, not entirely passive-aggressively.

“Big guy sure can put it away,” Douchebag David chuckled, in a way that wasn’t quite as jovial as he thought it sounded, as he watched Grady eyeing the apple pie at the end of the table. “You must be absolutely stuffed, bud.”

Grady just beamed amiably at them, big and handsome and happy, a big jock kid with two good meals and a solid fucking in him. Not to mention the solid load he’d shot down my throat in the shower before we’d come over.

“I dunno, I could always go for a little more,” he said, turning that amiable grin on me as he nudged my knee under the table again, lingering a little longer this time.

“He’s his father’s son, for sure,” Mandy said, rolling her eyes with a good-natured laugh, leaning into my arm.

“He sure is,” I grinned, winking at my boy, nudging my knee back against his slowly as he smiled that big sunny smile of his right at me, my cock starting to thicken inside my khakis. “He sure is.”

The End

(Copyright A4F Tales 2020)