A disclaimer from the author: This story is a work of fiction and contains themes that some readers might find difficult to read about, including: incest, a man with a vagina, male pregnancy, and themes involving dominance and submission. Please consider your tastes and comfort levels and show discretion before reading or commenting on this work.
For the second time in its 43 years of life, the womb of Robert McManus had fulfilled its biological destiny. It had fostered, nourished, and finally birthed a healthy baby boy into the world. This particular birth had been an especially trying for the man, womb and all. The birth of a child was a strenuous experience in any circumstance, but the lack of preparation and true medical assistance had pushed Rob’s body to the brink. In the end, Rob succeeded despite the odds, and all things considered, his poor vagina had earned a well deserved rest. Unfortunately, Jacob McManus had other plans.
The deluge of white fluid flooded the defenseless cavity, millions of frantically swimming sperm eager to find a place to settle and create new life. The seed, as potent as the man they came from, completed their arduous journey only to find the ground not yet fertile. Conception had failed. For now at least…
---
38 days until ovulation resumes…
There was no nice way to put it: Rob’s cunt ached like a bitch. No surprise there given the indignity he had suffered over the last 24 hours. Birthing a child and getting fucked by his oldest son all in the measly span of a single day. Rob was still trying to wrap his head around the entire shocking experience. When he invited his son back to the cabin to hash things out, he had feebly hoped for a reconciliation, but what he had earned instead was far stranger. Now he and Jake were...lovers? That’s what it felt like, as twisted as that may be.
His base coupling with Jake had been everything he had secretly fantasized about in the darkest depths of his imagination and it had all made real in the most perverse fashion possible. He couldn’t quite decide if it was a dream come true or a nightmare made reality. The rational, pragmatic part of his mind told him it was wrong, that he was dooming himself and his son by even entertaining the thought of letting it continue, but when he imagined it happening again…
One thing was crystal clear though; this path they were on was barreling them both towards an even greater level of sin, one of which he had just experienced the end results of so excruciatingly mere hours ago. He shifted his legs, wincing at the dull pain that radiated from between them. He should ask a nurse for some painkillers, something to take the edge off at least, but somehow that felt even worse, as if he was admitting to himself just how profoundly he had been handled by Jake.
Eyeing him discreetly from the hospital bed, Rob watched his son as he slept in an old battered chair, head nodding down onto his chest. With his black bangs covering his face, he looked so innocent, completely devoid of that devilish glint he had witnessed in his son’s eyes as he climbed onto the bed not so long ago. It would be so easy to just fixate on this image of his boy, to pretend and let the events of the past 24 hours blow away like dust on the wind. But, he knew that other side was still there, lurking beneath the surface waiting for the right moment to rear it’s ugly head once more. Rob had to be ready for it…
---
31 days until ovulation resumes...
When the hospital finally gave the OK for father and son to be released, Rob had made up his mind that he was going to end the affair with his son. He knew now, after a long, tedious week studying the young man, that Jake would never willingly give him up, not without a hell of a fight. As insane as it was to admit, a part of him didn’t want to back fight either. Each day that passed, he could feel his son’s influence burrowing itself within him, poking holes in his reserve and draining away his inhibitions, drip by drip. He found it harder and harder to resist the allure, and didn’t know how much longer he would be able to trust himself to just say no in his presence.
Easy words weren’t going to cut it either. “No”, was not a word that Jacob had ever responded well to, so he knew he needed to be able to spell out exactly why, from every conceivable angle, carrying on a sexual relationship with Jake was asking for nothing but trouble. Now, settling onto the plush backseat of Jake’s car, little newborn Caleb in tow, he felt like he was sitting on solid ground for the first time since the crash.
Despite the extreme events of that night, Rob wasn’t nearly as on guard as he expected to be. Ever since that fateful encounter in the hospital bed, where insanity had taken hold of both men and Rob had let his son fuck and breed him, Jake had been remarkably well-behaved. He was practically a gentleman around his dad now, ever present, thoughtful and considerate, but never pushing boundaries. A model son just looking out for his dad after such a trying labor. Right…
Jake looked for any reason to touch his dad he could. Bumping shoulders in the elevator down to the car, his foot “accidentally” rubbing on Rob’s toes at dinner the few times they braved the cafeteria together, hands touching on the guardrails as they watched a sport program on the old, grainy TV, and on and on. There was never any shortage of contact. It was like his son craved it, and if he was being honest, maybe he did too.
On the ride back to Rob’s house, both men were in good spirits. The complete opposite of the drive that had landed both men in the hospital. By the end of the week, both men were more than eager to slip back into their old lives with their familiar habits, and for at least one of them, start some new ones. Jake had been good about avoiding questioning his father too deeply on the lies he had spent years spinning. That desperate need for answers, especially the destructive ones, seemed to have dimmed in the younger man. Robert hoped that that was a sign of his son accepting the impossibility of Rob’s circumstances and wanting to move on, but in his heart he doubted that was true. He knew in his gut that Jake had his own motives for everything he did, including playing the nice, dutiful son. Jacob McManus was a lot of things, but he was definitely no saint.
Rob didn’t dare broach the subject of ending things in the car. The idea of potentially setting Jake off was enough for him to delay talking about it until they were both back in more comfortable territory. Instead, he basked in the calm of the drive, leaning into the sleeping form of his newborn baby, inhaling the new and already comforting scent of his newest child. Better to pretend and simply enjoy the long ride back home for what his oldest son thought it was. They stopped several times along the way, giving father and the new son some time to get out of the shaking vehicle, to stretch feet and spines. Jake never left the car, instead staying in the driver’s seat watching like a silent sentinel.
“Are you looking forward to getting back to school?” Rob asked, as casually as he could muster. He was in the backseat once more, and they were only about half an hour from the outskirts of Seattle. The closer they got to the city, the clouds began to darken. Rain was on the horizon. Jake shrugged, eyes never leaving the road.
“I guess. No real rush though, is there?” Rob watched the younger man’s fingers flex around the faded leather of the steering wheel, knuckles cracking as he did so. He tried again.
“No, but...I bet you got friends waiting for you, right?” Now Jake did look at him, eyes glancing sideways, examining his father and his motives.
“I got people here who need me more right now.” Simple and matter of fact, and worst of all, true. Rob wanted his son to get back to his normal life, for a multitude of reasons, but he couldn’t lie and say a selfish part of him wanted his boy to never go. It had been that way from the start...
When they finally got back to Rob’s house, pulling into the driveway of the three bedroom house, he knew he couldn’t put off the real conversation any longer. He had to put a stop to whatever madness was brewing between them, even if it meant burning the house down around them. Walking into his home of the last 18 years, he ignored the eerie, vaguely abandoned feeling the darkened house now carried inside it. Jake’s absence from his life had struck deeper than he cared to admit. Only the short spell with Matty, and the nine months of near frantic preparations afterwards had made much of a dent in the slowly accumulating loneliness. Rob shook the thoughts from his mind, and began to walk down the nearby hall toward his bedroom. No use going down that road anymore.
He placed Caleb in the bassinet, grateful he had the foresight to build the bed before the ill-fated cabin trip. Making sure that his newest son was secure, he righted himself and walked back to the entryway of his home where Jake was still standing, bags clutched in his arms, waiting impatiently. Carrying himself with every inch of his 6 feet of height, Rob reached an arm out to take one of the pieces of luggage, ready to tell Jake to take a seat at the dining room table, their go-to “serious conversation” spot that Jake was well acquainted with. The words never had a chance to leave his lips though, when instead Jake dropped the bags unceremoniously onto the floor, grabbed Rob by the labels of his polo and shoved him hard against the wall. Any objections Rob might have said crumbled in an “Umf!” of pain and surprise that sharpened into a gasp of astonishment when Jake’s lips met his for the first time.
Rob was no stranger to kissing a man, even his own son. Jake had never wanted for physical affection as a young boy, and a tight, paternal hug and a kiss on the cheek were in no way foreign experiences. They had never kissed like this though, like lovers. Before he could fully process what was happening and correct his behavior, Rob’s tongue, as if growing a mind of its own, met his son’s seeking appendage, and the two danced erotically in the connected hollow of their mouths. The kiss had started out hard and rough, a real man’s kiss, Rob thought hotly, but as the push and pull of their tongues continued, the beat of the erotic rhythm in their heads slowed and settled to a crawl, becoming slow and sensual. Rob risked cracking his eyelids open a fraction, and saw blue eyes that matched his own staring, studying his dad as if memorizing every blush and creviced line that appeared on his father’s weathered face.
When Jake broke the kiss, wet and reluctant, Rob for once found himself speechless. All he could do was breath and stare, deep mouthfuls of oxygen pouring into his lungs. He had never felt more aroused in his life. Not even with Matty. So, when Jake took his hand in his own and began pulling them both down the hall toward a bedroom, the one that Jake used when he came home to visit his old man for the holidays, Rob simply allowed himself to be pulled, and walked step-by-step, trance-like down the dusty hallway, until Jake gently pulled him into the room, and shut the door behind him. There was the click of a lock, followed by the muffled shuffling of clothes, and after a few minutes of quiet gasps and whispered words, the familiar sound of a mattress jouncing to the beat of moving bodies. By the time they were finished, wet and spent, Rob had forgotten all about his planned conversation.
---
30 days until ovulation resumes…
The next day began sanguine and domestic. Rob woke up early, as he always did, untangling himself from Jake’s sweaty, clutching form. He could already feel his belly beginning to rumble. They both needed food, especially after the night they had shared together. He walked down the hall to the nearest bathroom, his body still ripe with the scent of McManus man, youthful semen, and damp cunt. The blast of warm water was a well needed balm washing away the confusion and angst of the past few days. By the time he stepped out of the shower to dry himself, dripping wet and clean for what felt like the first time in weeks, Rob almost felt like a new man.
He prepared breakfast the way he liked it: lots of protein, eggs, sausage, bacon. Jake could help himself to cereal or maybe yogurt from the fridge if he wanted it. The smell of cooked eggs must have roused Jake from his slumber, because he heard the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall, heavy with the patter of oversleep in them. When he turned around, he watched, warily, as Jake settled at the table, in the head seat, patiently waiting for his food. Rob’s heart skipped a beat when he saw his boy, still disheveled and devastatingly handsome even when he had just crawled out of bed. No doubt he felt as exhausted as Rob had when he first woke up. Sleep had been the furthest thing from their minds last night and now they were both paying the price. As Rob set a heaping plate in front of the boy, Jake grunted a thanks and began to chew on a sausage patty.
“No pancakes?” he muttered, mouth full of food. Rob rolled his eyes. Jake could be such a baby when he was sleep deprived.
“Didn’t feel like making something only one of us was going to eat,” he said in reply, ignoring the glare his son gave him. “Besides, aren’t you old enough to feed yourself?” Jake didn’t have a good retort for that, not so early in the morning. He merely shrugged, hunched like a grumpy bear, and went back to his food. The pair ate in silence for a while, both silently examining the other, taking stock of this new wrinkle in their developing relationship. Rob wished he had thought to grab the morning paper from the driveway. He could use the distraction right about now. Per usual, Jake ended up being the one to break the ice.
“I was thinking I would stay and help out around here for a while,” Jake said, between bites of egg. Rob’s eyes narrowed, not liking where this conversation was going one bit.
“Did you now…” Jake nodded, eyes meeting his father’s, defiant.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Jake asked, a spark of challenge in his voice. Rob could feel his body tense, a mixture of anger and burgeoning lust in his muscles.
“No…” Rob said. “I could use some help with your brother.” It was the truth, but it felt far too much like an admittance of defeat. This was going the exact opposite of what he had planned yesterday. He changed course.
“What about your classes?” he asked, stating the obvious. Jake’s brows furrowed.
“They can wait,” he said. “Other things are more important right now.” He eyed his father’s body lasciviously, and Rob felt his skin prickle. “I’ll shoot my professors emails. Explain the new...situation...No, not all of it…” he said, amusement sparkling in his eyes at Rob’s expression. Rob sighed, and took a seat across the table from his son.
“You’re a young man...you aren’t supposed to be living your life being a babysitter for your old man,” Rob said, genuine concern shining in his words. Jake’s expression softened.
“I don’t mind,” Jake said, pushing his empty plate to the side. “Besides,” and now he leaned forward, voice dropping. “The job has some great perks.” He rose from his chair, leaving Rob red as a can of Campbell’s soup, while he took his plate and utensils to the sink.
---
That night Jake came to him again, this time in Rob’s own bedroom. Rob pretended to be asleep, perhaps hoping his son would be dissuaded from his goal, but instead he felt the blanket on top of him being pulled slowly from his body, cool air making his skin break out in gooseflesh. Rob only slept in a loose pair of boxer shorts, which Jake slid off his hairy legs easily enough, and now Rob was shivering from something more than chilliness. When Rob opened his eyes, trepidation mixed with unwanted arousal as his son took charge of him once again. Jake, leaning possessively over his dad, smiled down at him as the scent of a moist cunt filled his nostrils.
“You’re always so wet for me, Dad. Way more than any girl I’ve ever fucked.” Jake said heatedly, and a flush equal parts shame and pride spread across Rob’s face and chest. He didn’t tell his son this, couldn’t in this moment even if had wanted to, not with the way Jake’s possessive gaze was making his heart leap in his chest, but it was because of his unique anatomy. A doctor had explained it once, years ago when he was a teenager and his disheartened parents had wanted to know if their son could ever have a normal life. Rob discovered many things about himself and his body in that treatment room that day, not all of them happy. Rob may have had a vagina, fully functional in the ways that would matter to a woman, he also had the prostate gland of a man, for all the good it did him. A side effect of this odd combination of male and female sex organs was that Rob’s vagina, if even slightly aroused, would drip like a leaky faucet at the drop of a hat. Now, here in his bed with his oldest son coming to claim him once again, his pussy was like a ship taking on water and sinking into the ocean.
Jake didn’t waste time with any more words, simply settled his dad on his back and slid inside the wet heat of his father’s cunt. The initial thrust was still a shock for Rob, even when it was a slow descent like tonight, but more and more a feeling of rightness would come over him when he felt it. Even the slight, lingering stretched soreness from the previous night did little to deter Rob’s desire. Whether he liked it or not, his pussy liked taking cock, even his own son’s.
Jake set a brisk pace, with fullbodied thrusts that shook the bedframe and knocked the wind out of Rob on each descent. Earlier that day, Rob had made a trip to the pharmacy for some much needed supplies, and he had set aside a pack of condoms on the nightstand, in clear view, eager to protect what little dignity he had left. Jake had taken one look at the small cardboard box, smirked, and then promptly ignored it.
Now, as his son’s thrusts quickened, bringing tears of pain and pleasure to Rob’s eyes, he knew the inevitable was about to occur, and as if on command, he wrapped his legs around Jake’s thin, muscular back, locking his son in place. Jake thrust once, twice, and burying his head in his father’s sweaty neck, he coughed out a “fuck”, before spilling his seed deep inside Rob’s body. Rob felt his heart quicken, and a tiny, almost imperceptible orgasm struck him, coated his son’s cock in an extra layer of his musky juices.
They lay like that for a long time, father and son connected together as one, until sleep began to press down on them and Jake reluctantly rolled off his dad, collapsing briskly into slumber. Laid on his back, body wet with perspiration and other more vicious fluids, Rob found it took him much longer to reach that same destination..
----
23 days until ovulation resumes…
Morning sun woke Rob once more, his son wrapped tightly around his waist. It was a sensation that was becoming more familiar day-by-day, and while Rob still grappled with the peculiar mixture of anxiety and comfort nestled in his gut, the feelings of emotional discomfort dimmed each morning he awoke in his son’s arms. It was beginning to feel right, and that scared the hell out of him.
What made it more confusing for Rob was how the pair were able to so easily slip into their normal day-to-day routines. Rob would wake up early, letting his son sleep in as he was want to do. He would shower, brew the coffee, eat his breakfast while he read the paper. Normal, comforting, everyday activities. Work would be just as simple, but now there was the added dull ache between his legs, a constant reminder of the previous night’s incest. Still on paternity leave, he worked around the house, well-fucked folds clutching with each step in the kitchen, garage, or yard, muscles instinctively trying to hold in his son’s seed, hour after hour. A full day of such treatment would build up inside Rob, stoking those sinful feelings buried deep inside, and by the time the sun began to set he was almost always wet, and not just in sweat.
Shockingly, Jake had taken to being a big brother like a pro. He fawned over little Caleb in a way that made Rob grin, and secretly set his heart at ease. Jacob would be a good father, he realized, and the thought peculiarly made his breath catch anytime he thought it. He noticed that the unopened box of condoms, never touched to his knowledge, had disappeared last night. The implications were both thrilling and ominous. Still, if Jake had any concrete plans for Rob, he was keeping them to himself. He seemed content enough being Big Bro for now and doing his best to show his dad that he could be a real man of the house if he set his heart on it.
While Jake, his hair beginning the get a bit shaggy around the collar, fussed with a diaper, Rob made dinner, the basic domesticity sitting comfortable within himself. No one would guess given his hairy, masculine exterior, but Rob took quite a bit of pride in being a homemaker and single father. He loved his job, getting his hands dirty with the other men on the job sites, but he loved taking care of his boys more. A long dormant fantasy had sprung back to life, and while he was willing to temper his expectations, he was unwilling to fully weed it fully out of his system.
----
18 days until ovulation resumes…
They didn’t even make it into a bedroom this time, Jake pouncing on his dad the minute he got back from the autoyard. There was a hungry, manic look in his son’s eyes that brought back sticky memories of backseat violations. Appropriate given that he had just looked at the remnants of that particular encounter not even an hour ago. The auto mechanic, a big, crusty looking man who looked about as battered by life as Rob’s SUV, had whistled in amusement that Rob hadn’t shared.
“Woowhee! That upholstery sure is a wreck. Looks like someone got murdered back there!” the man had said, breath smelling of stale whiskey. Rob wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn’t protest the other man’s language. He hated to admit it, but the man wasn’t wrong. The interior of his beloved Tahoe was shot to hell and back. He had thought to have the interior lovingly fixed up, but had eventually come to the realization that it wasn’t worth the financial investment to have it replaced when he could just buy a newer, better vehicle with the money instead. Maybe a Bronco this time? He would have to give it some consideration.
Back in the present, Rob allowed his son to disrobe him, noting the smirk on his son’s face at seeing that his old man was flying commando under his jeans. Jake leaned in between those hairy thighs and took a deep whiff.
“Fuck, I love the way you smell,” he said, nearly panting already. Rob had only a moment to watch Jake’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, before his son was diving face first into his crotch, tasting his father for the first time. Rob’s head slammed back against the couch’s armrest, making his vision wobble, and a choked cry erupted from his mouth as his son’s tongue began to ravenously feast on his flesh. Still seeing stars, he offered no objection as his ankle was gripped, the big leg raised high and wide, providing easier access to his son’s meal. His other leg feel uselessly off the side of the leather couch, his body slumping into the plush leather in willing submission.
Rob was want to admit it, but he absolutely loved having his vagina eaten out. His experiences with men were limited and spread thin across over 2 decades, but cunnilingus was the one thing he missed the most when he was trying to stay single and on the straight and narrow. A feel of a finger or cock could be mimicked with his own body or a well considered toy, but a tongue was one thing he couldn’t replicate on his own. Now here he was getting the primo treatment from his own flesh and blood.
His son knew what he was doing too. That tongue of his was long and curvy, reaching into the deeper recesses of Rob’s cunt, full red lips kissing and sucking on his plump folds all the while. There must have been a lot of happy co-eds wondering when good ole Jake McManus was coming back to class. That tongue is all mine… Rob thought, the nasty words alone sending a tremor down his spine and an extra gush of pussy juice onto his pink folds, which his son eagerly lapped up. The urge to touch himself was insanely strong. He could feel his clit throbbing, as if begging to be pressed and make himself explode.
He resisted with an effort that felt gargantuan in the moment, one hand jammed between his teeth, his palm, filthy with slobber, muffling his cries of pleasure. The other had instinctively grasped his son’s hair, holding that head that felt built to make his pussy cream itself, like a vice. He realized moments before it was set to occur, that his son was going to bring him to any early orgasm, but instead of releasing the boy, or even giving a heads-up, he instead clung tighter to his son’s scalp, digging Jake’s face as deep as it would go.
Like many of Rob’s orgasms, this one hit him like a cannonball, and soon he was drenching his son’s face all while biting down on himself hard enough to leave marks. When Jake came up for air, gasping slightly, his face and eyes glistened in a combination of oxygen-starved tears and his father’s own come. His son’s tongue slathered an obscene ring over his lips, gathering what fluid it could, before Jake finally wiped the remnants off with his shirtsleeve. Looking down between Rob’s legs, he began to laugh.
“We need to lay down some towels or something next time,” he said, remarking on the excess fluid dripping down Rob’s thick things to slide and soak onto the leather seating below him. Rob only nodded, too worn out from his orgasm to do much more. But, he knew this wasn’t over. His son still needed to get off…
Jake must have noticed the way his dad was looking at him, because his smile widened, almost childlike, as he answered,
“I’m all good. For now,” even as he said this, Rob could see the indention of his son’s erection in his sweatpants, arousal literally bulging between Jake’s legs. Rob didn’t say anything, closing his eyes instead. It wouldn’t do to let Jake notice a glimmer of disappointment buried in his blue eyes.
----
15 days until ovulation resumes...
One particularly rainy evening, after a bout of post-dinner nookie, Jake was feeding Caleb from a bottle, an expensive formula mixture that the baby had taken strongly to, when he asked Rob why he never breastfed the child.
“Can’t,” Rob said, voice and face cloudy at the thought. He had never had the conversation about his breasts with anyone else before.
“Can’t or won’t?” Jake challenged, and Rob grimaced realizing it was going to be one these conversations, where the young man tried to assert his will over his old man.
“Can’t-and I don’t have anything else to say on the matter,” Rob said, an air of finality in his voice. Jake gave him a hard look, but let the subject die for now. Rob wasn’t fully convinced though. Jake had developed a nasty habit of building a book of transgressions that he would fight his dad over, and this was just one more for the list.
Just a couple of days ago, out of the blue, Jake had asked, almost absentmindedly, face buried in his cellphone, “I don’t actually have a mom, do I?” The question had caught Rob so off guard, that he nearly dropped the pot of coffee he held in his hand. His first instinct was an old one: lie, lie, lie, but he fought the urge down and instead told Jake the truth for the first time.
“No, son...you don’t.” he said lowly, cautiously. Jake paused in his scrolling, seemingly taking in this revelation, before shrugging and saying a simple, “OK”. Rob just stared at the boy, baffled by how easily he was taking the news. Jake must have sensed his father’s trepidation because he set the phone down and said to the older man-
“Honestly, it seems obvious now. Don’t know why I never realized it before. Your stories about her always had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese.” Rob didn’t like the way Jake framed it, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his son’s words. Everyone just accepted his words at face value, as if it was easier to believe a tall tale about a tragic car accident that made little to no sense than to have to admit the likelier reality that was slapping them upside the face.
Every day that passed gave his son just another opportunity to pry yet another shameful secret from Rob’s breast. He wondered how long it would take before Jake would want to know the truth about the man who was also his father...
----
13 days until ovulation resumes…
Late in the evening, while Jacob had taken Caleb upstairs to be put to bed, Rob retreated to the bathroom to try and take care of his breasts. The nipples had felt hard and achy all day, in that way that told him his breasts needed to be milked. He hated this part with a passion, and he couldn’t wait until his body had finally let go of the idea that it needed to milk his young. He wasn’t some damn girl needing a baby’s mouth on his tits. He was a man, and thank god he wouldn’t have to put up with this nonsense much longer.
He took his shirt off, setting it on top of the toilet for the moment, and observed his reflection in the mirror. He lifted his breasts with the palm of each hand, examining the size and heft of them. They were still small, not much bigger than before he had been pregnant. Didn’t even really look much like breasts at all, more like a pair of meaty pecs with big nipples, the kind that had a little bounce to them. If anyone was bold and stupid enough to ask about them, that was the story he was giving.
He brought his fingers to a nipple and pinched around the exterior, testing the waters. No fluid of any kind came out, not that he expected it to. When it came to “motherhood”, his breasts were the one deficiency he could never overcome, but he kept on squeezing anyways, tweaking, seeing if he could ease the burden that was flowing beneath the surface. He had tried a pump during his first pregnancy and nearly drove himself crazy in the process. He was so focused on his work that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a heavy knock came on the bathroom door.
“Everything ok in there?” he heard Jake say from the other side. Rob cursed under his breath, embarrassed at almost being caught out.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said in his “I’m hiding something voice”. There was a pause for a moment, before the door handle began to turn, stopped because of the lock, and the knocking resumed.
“Come on, dad. Let me in,” he heard Jake’s voice say, a certain weariness in it. Rob was tempted to bark back at his son, but knew he was just delaying the inevitable, so instead unlocked the door and ushered his son in. Jake took one look at the redness on his dad’s chest and burst out laughing.
“Were you playing with your tits!?” he asked, as if the idea was hilarious. Rob scowled at his son, but held back his tongue. He needed to maintain what dignity he could while he still had it.
“No, idiot. I was trying to...alleviate the pressure,” he said, a pointless vagueness in the phrase. Jake’s laughter stilled, but the goofy smile never left his face, and despite himself, Rob couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pleasure at seeing his son happy, even if it was at his own expense.
“Alleviate…? Ohhh…” Jake said, understanding now. He brought his thumb and index finger to Rob’s left nipple and gave it a squeeze, drawing a hissing breath from the older man. Jake’s other fingers joined his right hand’s exploration on the other nipple, twirling and tweaking the set in tandem, all under the watchful gaze of their master.
“Why are you trying to milk your own boobs in here when you could be feeding your son?” he asked, a hint of annoyance mixed with genuine curiosity. Rob’s gaze dimmed, the feelings of painful relief coming from his chest distracting his thoughts. Eventually, he managed to answer.
“Not that simple,” he said, wincing at a particularly harsh squeeze. “My...breasts...They don’t work the way they are supposed to.” The admission cost him more than he expected and his face burned with a fire that held absolutely no pleasure in it. To his credit, Jake didn’t press, content to have pieced together the answer to another riddle in the mystery that was Robert McManus and his body. Instead, a new peculiar look came over the lightly haired face of his son.
“I want to try something,” he said, giving no warning or explanation as he bent forward and took a nipple in his mouth. Rob openly gasped now, hands automatically grasping his son’s head, though whether to pull his son away or push that mouth in deeper, he couldn’t say. It was as if his body had froze in paralysis as soon as he made first contact with that black locked scalp, and remained there, clutching for dear life.
Jake’s sucking, at first almost tentative, quickly livened up. One hand was in his underwear, stroking himself slowly in time with his sucking, while the other hand latched onto Rob’s free nipple, clearly intent on pleasuring, or abusing depending on your perspective, both nipples. Horrifyingly, Rob’s mind jumped back to an incident nearly two decades ago when he, around the same age as Jake was now, had little baby, newborn Jake McManus’ mouth suckling on his teat, tears of pain and frustration coating his cheeks at his inability to provide for his son the way the boy needed it.
As if on cue, in a perverse form of sympathy, Rob felt the most rare event happen. A tiny drop, not even enough to be called a trickle came from the sucked nipple, and Rob heard his son moan in surprise as the taste of his father’s milk flooded his taste buds for the first time in almost two decades. Jake tried his damnedest to get more, but barely managed another drop before he gave up, releasing his father’s nipple with a wet sound, his lips rosy and flushed.
“Fuck, that’s wild,” Jake said, clearly aroused in a way he hadn’t expected from the experiment he had just performed on his father. He took a moment for himself, never stopping that lazy stroke of his ample length, before licking his lips once more and latching onto Rob’s left nipple, eager to balance the scale and milk whatever more he could from his father’s quivering body. Rob stared at his reflection in the mirror, face ruddy, eyes bleary, as he lost yet another part of himself to his son’s amorous advances.
---
11 days until ovulation begins...
Two days later, nestled together on the couch watching a football game, they had their next fight.
Jake’s fingers, tucked beneath the elastic bands of his dad’s gym shorts, were stroking and scratching along the hairy pubic mound of Rob’s crotch in lazy patterns. Every so often a fingertip would dip inward grazing the sensitive skin of Rob’s vulva. Rob was so entranced by the scent of his son and the sensations of his son’s touch that he almost missed the words coming from Jake’s mouth.
“I’ve been thinking...maybe I should take a semester off,” Jake said casually. Way too casual, in fact. Rob grabbed the offending hand and pulled it away from his body, now tight as a wire.
“No. Absolutely not.” he responded, his tone not broaching any kind of disagreement. Jake was, unsurprisingly, not deterred in the slightest.
“You don’t get to decide that,” Jake said, itching to take the argument to the next level. Rob’s eyes narrowed. This defiance had gone on long enough. It was time Rob let his son know just what the pecking order was.
“As long as you live under this roof, you’re going to stay in school,” Rob said, taking a tact he never expected to have to make. The idea of essentially pressganging his oldest into higher education didn’t sit right with him, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow Jake to throw his future away over this shortsighted infatuation.
They bickered back and forth, each man more sure than ever of the virtue of their respective position. Finally, Rob had enough. Angrily, he turned off the television and told Jake,
“I’ve had enough of this. I want you to sleep in your own room tonight.” Jake scowled at him, but didn’t respond, his fists clenched in obvious anger. Rob left him that way, moving down the hall with baby Caleb before he could give into temptation and wreck what little authority he still retained in this household. As he shut the door on his son, he heard the irate young man call out to him, “We both know you want me here!”
Sleep did not come easily. Rob found himself tossing and turning, upset by the argument with his boy, but also something more complicated and disturbing. There was an insistant heat between his legs, pesky and needy. He rubbed the mounds of muscular flesh and bone together, trying to provide some stimulation, something to calm the rising tides before they became a full storm, but succeeded only in furthering his perverse need. Finally, with a groan of needful defeat, he gave into his body’s demands. Reaching under his bed, he dug around for a few moments, grasping for an old, buried shoebox.
It had been a while since he had needed to access it, not since the days of his pregnancy with Caleb and the heightened libido that had seemed to haunt him day and night. Eventually he found the battered package and dragged it onto the bed, letting the lid slide off and onto the floor as he did so. Inside were all of Rob’s toys that he had accumulated over the years. There weren’t too many overall, just a few dildos and vibrators he had experimented with. It wasn’t so easy to find the specific combination of stimulation he needed to keep his urges at bay.
He picked an old favorite, a girthy, peachy flesh-toned prong that was good for scratching that itch deep inside. He let the rest of the toys settle back into place, noting the anal toy among the bunch. He needed to remember to hide that one. It would be bad enough if Jake knew he owned dildos for his vagina. He didn’t want his son to realize his old man was also a bit of a butt slut too. The kid already had an overactive imagination and a self-centered ego to match.
With how slick Rob had gotten, the toy slid inside his body embarrassingly easy. The longer he was around Jake, the more needy his hole seemed to became. It had been like that with Matty too, and look where that got him…
As much as he wanted his son’s cock, he would sleep better at night knowing he was protecting the lives and dignity of himself and his oldest son. Even if the dildo felt like a piss-poor substitute. He set a steady pace, a little more than half the phallic shaped toy filling his cunt on each push, and soon his hips were meeting it halfway, gyrating at the same pace as easily as taking a breath.
He was so enthralled in his work and the slow, steady buildup of orgasmic intensity building in his loins that he completely failed to hear his son enter the bedroom.
“So much for taking the high ground.” Rob’s eyes widened in shock, a mortifying squeak of surprise punched past his grimacing lips. His cunt, as shaken as the rest of him, grabbed the dildo in an instinctual deathgrip that made Rob wince in discomfort. He didn’t have time to muster up a protest, for Jake was already shedding his clothes, a snake discarding what was no longer needed or wanted.
“Jake...don’t…” Rob whispered, all too aware of where this was going. He couldn’t deny his want. It was leaking all over the piece of plastic wedged in his body. The last of Jake’s clothes settled onto the floor, and his son climbed onto bed, seating himself in his proper place.
“More secrets, dad?” Jake asks, tapping the dildo, which juddered inside Rob’s clenching body. Robert bit his lip, a queasy mixture of discomfort and arousal seeping through his body. He shook his head, slowly.
“No…” he said, and then added, “Just...private.” Jake smirked, and grasped onto the dildo with his more lithe fingers, rotating it slowly inside his dad’s cunt.
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference with you,” he said, accusation floating on his lips, but thankfully free of the venom Rob had been expecting. Rob’s body began to relax now, his mind starting to catch up to what his body already knew it needed.
The toy’s movements, to this point slow and measured begin to speed up. Soon, Rob was panting, eyes watery, as his son once again claimed what he believed belonged to him. And this time, Rob had even provided the tool for his own submission.
Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, the dildo was wracked from Rob’s yielding body, leaving a gaping void it once filled. Rob whimpered now, a god’s honest, full-throated whimper of humiliating need. Jake had no sympathy in his eyes, only possession.
“If you want it, you need to ask for it,” Jake said, taunting his father with his perverse need to be filled and stretched. Rob clenched his teeth, writhing in place. Fire burned in his eyes and in his heart, but the heat in his loins was greater by far. He spread his legs wide, almost letting them fall off opposite sides of the bed, his cunt was wide open for business.
“Please, son...don’t make me wait,” he managed, a truly feeble attempt at begging. Jake sighed, clearly disappointed, but still he grinned.
“We really got to work on your dirty talk,” he said, dropping the dildo on the floor with a wet, rubbery-sounding plop, and began rubbing his leaking head over the damp heat of Rob’s entrance. Rob’s eyes widened, he was shaking with the desire and knowledge that he would soon be penetrated by his son again. He couldn’t resist it, after all.
The plunge was savage, a toppling of the pedestal Rob had anchored himself to as a father. He screamed, a mixture of pain and pleasure pouring from his throat. But he didn’t stop it. He held his legs wider, giving his son the access he wanted. The access he had earned with his cock and cum.
Rob wasn’t sure how long his son fucked him. Time had a way of losing meaning when Jacob McManus was staking his claim. He let himself sink into a foggy haze of aroused submission, punctuated by the stabs of his son’s cock and the drops of sweat that would periodically land on him. It was only his son’s words that pulled him from his well-fucked reverie.
“Touch yourself, Dad.” Rob almost didn’t respond, his fucked brain trying to catch up with the words, but eventually he complied, his right hand dipping past his hairy belly, where he began to lazily stroke his clit. It was not enough to provide more than the beginning tinges of pleasure he needed, but that wasn’t the point. This was for his son. To show him what it looked like. To give Jake what he needed.
It turns out Jake had other ideas though. His thrusts slowed to a crawl, plunging stabs becoming low, languorous rolls of the hip. Enough to tease, but little more. Jake was biting his lip, trying to stifle a laugh at his dad’s whine of frustration. The elder McManus had developed a taste for the long stroke.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Dad,” Jake said, the torturous movements grinding to a halt. “I’ll play by your rules...for now.”
He sheathed himself fully inside his old man, grunting as he spent himself in the tight, wet heat. He made no sign of movement, content to bask in the temporary afterglow of breeding his own father’s cunt once again. His lips met his father’s then, almost tender, before he pulled himself out of Rob’s body completely.
Standing at his full height at the edge of the bed, he said to Rob, “Get on your hands and knees, Dad.”
Rob stared at his son for one long, tension filled moment. They had never done it any way but missionary. Rob had always thought it was about the intimacy, the connection that bordered on romantic. Maybe there was more to Jake McManus than met the eye. His arousal in no way satiated, Rob sat up, body shaking with a perverse combination of nerves and need, and began to crawl onto his hands and knees.
Without being told, Rob bent forward, chest flat with the mattress, ass and pussy raised, exposed for use. He was humiliatingly wet, a sopping mess of vaginal fluid coating his crotch and thighs. The arousal was only building by the moment.
With his face buried in the mattress, he felt a pair of strong hands touch his asscheeks and spread them wide, exposing both of his holes. Rob’s breath caught in his throat. He can see all of me. Every part. A fresh wave of sympathetic arousal seeped into his core, heightening the downpour from his wet folds.
Any further thoughts were violently cut off as Jake sheathed himself back inside his father in one swift, brutal thrust. There was no gentle teasing, no subtle seduction. This was a man taking what belonged to him.
Jake’s pace was savage, reminding Rob of their fateful first time in the hospital bed. The sound of cock plunging in and out of wet cunt filled the room, punctuated by Rob’s muffled screams of overwhelmed pleasure. This was so different from when Jake was above him, watching his face, searching for signs of pleasure, like an infection spreading through his favorite toy. Now, on his hands and knees, he felt like an animal being used for the sole purpose of breeding. He’s making me his bitch, Rob thought, his cries rising an octave as Jake’s cock began to pummel away at his flesh, scrapping the thin layer of skin to hit his prostate gland.
It was only when Rob heard the sound of spitting and the shock of wetness on his asshole, that he raised his head. He looked over his shoulder, eyes frantic at his son’s actions.
“Jake! No...don’t!”
There was no reprieve, or even an answer from his son, instead he watched his son’s hand shift and felt the bulky sensation of a thumb breaching his anus for the first time. Now Rob’s cries took on a harsh, panicked tone that warbled in shock as the older man’s orgasm overcame him. His pussy clenched rhythmically around his son’s cock, in turn milking another orgasm from his son. Rob’s eyes rolled back into his head, a long string of drool dripping from his gaping mouth and running down his chin as he felt his cunt being flooded with yet more of the semen of Jacob McManus.
He collapsed in a heap on top of the mattress, quivering lips still shaking from his orgasm, letting out little trickles of white on the soiled mattress. Faintly, he heard his son fall back onto the mattress, clearly as spent as his dad.
“Fuck, that was good,” Jake said, panting for breath. Rob could do nothing but lay there, soaking in the potency of his son’s spend. He managed to crack an eye open when he detected more movement from behind him.
“Jake…?” he rasped out as he felt his son’s body climb on top of his prone form.
“Think I got one more in me,” Jake said, and Rob moaned in pleasure as his boy seated himself back inside his father and the fucking began once more.
----
Later, how long Rob was not sure, he came to, his son’s potent seed dripping down his thighs. The urge to cover himself up roared strong for a fleeting moment before dying under the weight of exhaustion and Rob’s now steadfast devotion to his son’s needs.
He stretched languidly, body aching in all of the right ways. He pondered that for a moment. His son had an urge, some might call obsession, with making his cunt take the rough treatment. So different from Matty, or Stanley, or… He shook his head, not wanting to finish that thought. Instead he ran a hand down his hairy body, testing the muscles, the give and take, the limberness. Maybe he needed to get back to the gym. Make his body even stronger than it already was. More durable.
While he was distracted with that thought, he heard a muffled shout coming from the bathroom down the hall.
“Dad! Where the heck are the spare towels?” Rob rolled his eyes. His son may have liked to think he was man of the house, but at the end of the day he was still just a stupid, horny kid, and god help him but Rob loved the hell out of him despite it all.
Rummaging around the linen closet, Rob procured a clean bath towel, and opened the door to the bathroom. Jake pulled aside the curtain, water continuing to spray him as he did so.
“Here you are, your majesty,” Rob said, tossing the cloth across the room where his son caught it easily in one hand.
“Thanks, Dad,” Jake said, giving Rob a winning look. The kid was all smiles now. Guess shooting your load 3 times back-to-back will do that for you. Shaking his head slightly, Rob left the steamy room, shutting the door behind him. He should probably see to Caleb, they had been awfully busy the last few hours. But first, a little cleanup was in order. Rubbing his tacky crotch with a spare cloth, Rob began to pick up the discarded clothes around his bedroom, tossing them in the hamper. Bending over to pick up the soiled toy from the floor, he realized that somehow he and Jake had knocked over the small trashcan he kept next to his bed, spilling its contents onto the floor.
Grumbling to himself, Rob started picking up various tissues, wrappers, and pieces of paper, before stopping in his tracks. He reached down to grab the crumbled box from its position where it had landed under the bed. He recognized it instantly, the missing package of condoms, still unopened. Now, holding the battered and crushed object in his hand, it felt less like protection and more like an minacious omen. For one lingering moment, he considered placing it back on the counter where it had once laid, but instead, with a quiet sigh of resignation, he dumped it into the can with the rest of the trash and went to check on Caleb.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
