Home Sweet Home
The shop was quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional wet noise as Coop slowly pulled his thick cock out of Dylan’s wrecked hole. A thick string of cum followed, stretching between his cockhead and Dylan’s puffy rim before breaking and splattering onto the concrete floor.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Coop muttered, giving Dylan’s ass one last lazy slap. “You took that load like a champ.”
Dylan let out a shaky laugh, still bent over the workbench with his legs trembling. “Jesus, Coop… you guys are gonna kill me one of these days.”
Rusty was already tucking his cock back into his putrid jock, the front still damp from Dylan’s spit and his own precum. He grinned as he watched more of Coop’s load slowly leak out of Dylan’s hole and run down the back of his thigh.
“Kid’s got a hungry cunt,” Rusty said, reaching over to drag two thick fingers through the mess and push it back inside Dylan. “Look at that. Still winkin’ for more.”
Dylan groaned and pushed back against Rusty’s fingers for a second before standing up on shaky legs. “You two are fuckin’ animals.”
Coop chuckled as he wiped his cock off on the front of Dylan’s discarded t-shirt before tossing it back to him. “You love it.”
They started getting dressed in that easy, post-fuck way — no rush, just the easy comfort of men who’d done this plenty of times before. Rusty pulled his stained work pants up over his meaty ass, letting the waistband sit low under his gut. Coop tucked his heavy cock into his well-worn smelly briefs, the fabric already damp from the long day and the fresh load he’d just dumped. Dylan winced a little as he pulled his own pants up, clearly feeling it.
Rusty grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the workbench and lit one, taking a long drag and exhaling toward the ceiling before he spoke.
“So… that Tyler kid. He’s Jack’s friend, right?”
Dylan’s expression shifted slightly as he pulled his shirt on. There was a flicker of something — irritation, maybe jealousy — before he answered.
“Yeah. Just some friend of Jack’s from school or whatever. Showed up today out of nowhere.”
Coop smirked as he grabbed his keys off the workbench. “Yeah. Cute little fucker. Kept lookin’ around like he didn’t know what to do with himself.”
Dylan let out a short, dry laugh, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Jack sure seemed happy to see him.”
Rusty raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything right away. He took another drag and glanced between the two of them.
Coop caught the look on Dylan’s face and chuckled. “What, you jealous or somethin’?”
Dylan shrugged, trying to play it off as he bent down to grab his boots. “Nah. Just… didn’t expect Jack to have some pretty little friend show up out of nowhere. Kid was starin’ at everything like he’d never seen a real man before.”
Rusty snorted. “Probably hadn’t. Not ones like us, anyway.”
“I'm pretty sure he got an eyeful of my father in his office all morning,” Dylan retorted somewhat sarcastically, almost angrily.
“More like a noseful!” Rusty bellowed and laughed.
Coop grinned and adjusted his bulge through his pants. “Whatever. Not our problem tonight.” He jerked his head toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s lock this place up. I’m ready to get home and have a few beers.”
Dylan didn’t say anything else, but the slight tension in his shoulders didn’t fully go away as he finished getting dressed.
—
Coop killed the engine and the two of them climbed out of the truck in the quiet driveway. The house in front of them was small but well-kept — a tidy little two-story with fresh paint, a neatly trimmed lawn, and a pair of rocking chairs on the front porch. It didn’t look like the kind of place you’d expect two rough auto mechanics to live.
Inside, it was even more surprising.
The living room was clean and comfortably furnished, with a big, well-worn couch facing a flatscreen TV mounted above a brick fireplace. There were framed photos on the mantel, a couple of healthy houseplants near the windows, and the faint smell of lemon cleaner still lingering in the air. It was warm, lived-in, and surprisingly charming.
Rusty headed straight for the kitchen without a word, flipping on the lights and pulling ingredients out of the fridge like he’d done it a thousand times before. Coop grabbed two leashes off a hook by the door and whistled.
“C’mon, girls,” he called.
Two dogs — a chunky, gray-muzzled pit bull mix and a smaller, energetic mutt — came trotting out from the back of the house, tails wagging. Coop clipped the leashes on and stepped out into the evening air, leaving Rusty to handle dinner.
By the time Coop got back from walking the dogs, the house smelled like garlic and onions. Rusty was at the stove in a faded t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants, stirring something in a big cast-iron skillet. Coop let the dogs off their leashes and they immediately went to their beds near the fireplace.
“Smells good,” Coop said, kicking off his boots by the door.
“Chili,” Rusty answered without turning around. “Figured we could use something hearty.”
They ate at the small kitchen table like they always did — quiet, comfortable, the occasional comment about the food or something that happened on the job that day. After dinner, they moved to the living room. Rusty grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one to Coop before dropping down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Coop settled in beside him, remote in hand, and turned on the TV. A baseball game flickered to life on the screen.
For a while, they just sat there in easy silence, drinking their beers and watching the game. Rusty had one arm draped along the back of the couch, his fingers idly brushing the back of Coop’s neck every so often. Coop leaned into the touch without thinking about it.
It was domestic. Easy. Like any long-married couple winding down after a long day.
Then came the knock.
Three loud, deliberate thumps against the basement door at the back of the house.
Rusty turned his head slowly and looked at Coop, a small, knowing smile spreading across his face.
“He’s here,” he said quietly.
Coop looked back at him, returning the smile with the same quiet understanding.
—
The basement was another world entirely.
Where the house upstairs was clean, warm, and deceptively charming, the space below was something else altogether. It was dimly lit, the only real light coming from a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling and the glow of a massive flat-screen television mounted on one wall. The floors and walls were nothing but raw concrete, cold and stained in places from years of use. There was no carpet, no drywall, no attempt to make it feel like part of the home above.
Sex toys were scattered everywhere.
Dildos of every size and shape sat on shelves and lay across surfaces — some thick and veiny, others smooth and black, and a few that were almost comically enormous, the kind that looked like they belonged in a porn studio rather than a private basement. Thick chains with heavy metal cuffs dangled from hooks bolted into the walls. Leather harnesses hung from pegs, all stiff with dried sweat and cum. Bottles of lube, half-empty and sticky, were scattered across nearly every surface.
In the center of the room, a heavy leather sex sling hung from thick chains bolted directly into the floor joists above. The leather was cracked and darkened in places from years of use, the chains slightly rusted but still solid.
In one far corner, a king-sized mattress lay directly on the concrete floor. It was completely disgusting — the fabric caked in filth, dark grease stains, and large, irregular patches of dried piss that had soaked deep into the material. The whole thing reeked. Strewn across the mattress and the floor around it were countless pairs of filthy underwear: boxers, stained tightie-whities, and worn-out jockstraps, all of them covered in blotchy, crusted brown cum stains from what had to be hundreds of loads. Most were so filthy they were stiff.
Cum stains marked nearly every surface in the room — on the concrete walls, on the floor, on the legs of the sling, even on the television stand. The air was thick and heavy, saturated with the sharp, unmistakable stench of piss. It clung to everything.
This wasn’t a playroom.
It was a den. Some might say a dungeon.
The basement door creaked open at the top of the stairs.
Heavy footsteps came down slowly, followed by a second, lighter set. When they reached the bottom, Ray stepped into the dim light first, a crooked grin on his face. The college janitor looked exactly like he always did — early fifties, stocky, with a thick gut that strained against his work shirt and a face that was all weathered lines and stubble. His eyes went straight to Rusty and Coop like he’d been here a hundred times before.
Behind him came Connor.
Ray’s son was in his early twenties, leaner than his old man but fit and muscular, with a nervous energy that showed in the way he hovered a step behind. He had the same dark hair and strong jaw, but his face was smoother, and his eyes kept darting around the room like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be seeing any of it.
“Well, well,” Rusty said with a slow smile, setting his beer down. “Look who finally brought the boy.”
Ray let out a low chuckle and clapped a heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder, giving him a little push forward. “Figured it was time. Kid’s been making some progress at home. Thought he oughta get familiar with the action down here.”
Connor swallowed hard but didn’t say anything. His eyes moved over the sling, the chains, the filthy mattress in the corner, and the collection of toys scattered around. He looked like he wanted to take a step back but Ray’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder.
Coop stepped forward, his voice low and easy. “Hey, Connor. You alright?”
Connor nodded quickly, but the tension in his shoulders said otherwise.
Rusty moved in from the other side, giving the kid a once-over. “You don’t gotta do anything you don’t want to, alright? We’re not gonna hurt you. Not unless you ask real nice.”
Ray snorted. “He’ll be fine. Won’t you, boy?”
Connor glanced at his father, then back at the three older men. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Ray gave him another push, this time toward the center of the room. “Then let’s get you out of those clothes.”
The three men moved in around him without another word.
Rusty started with Connor’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head while Coop worked on his belt. Ray stood back for a moment, watching with a satisfied look as his son was stripped. Connor’s breathing picked up as his pants were tugged down, then his underwear. He stood there naked in the middle of the filthy basement, arms instinctively trying to cover himself before Rusty gently pulled them away.
“Easy,” Rusty murmured. “You’re alright.”
They guided him backward toward the sling. Connor hesitated for half a second when he felt the cool leather against his back, but Ray’s hand was there again, steady on his chest, pushing him down into it.
“Up you go,” Ray said.
Coop and Rusty each took one of Connor’s wrists, guiding his arms up and cuffing them to the chains above his head. His legs were lifted next, settled into the stirrups so they were spread wide and held high, leaving him completely exposed. The leather creaked under his weight as he settled into it.
Connor stared up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling fast, completely naked and secured in the sling.
Ray stood at the foot of it, looking down at his son with a small, satisfied smile.
Rusty and Coop stood on either side, both of them watching Connor closely.
Rusty glanced over at Ray, one hand resting on Connor’s thigh.
“So,” he said, voice low and calm. “How you want us to do this?”
Ray stood at the foot of the sling, arms crossed over his broad chest, looking down at his son like he was appraising him. Connor’s breathing was already quick and shallow, his wrists shifting slightly in the cuffs above his head.
“Start him off with one of the big ones,” Ray said after a moment. “One of the really thick ones. Get him opened up proper.”
Coop nodded once and turned toward the shelves. He picked up a heavy, veiny dildo — thick enough around that it looked almost too big for what they were about to do. He brought it back over, along with a bottle of lube.
Rusty picked up a thick leather gag from a nearby hook and held it in front of Connor’s face.
“Open up for me, kid,” he said gently.
Connor hesitated for a second, eyes wide, then slowly parted his lips. Rusty eased the gag into his mouth and buckled it behind his head, muffling any sound he might make. Connor’s breathing grew louder through his nose.
Coop slicked up the fat dildo and pressed the blunt head against Connor’s hole. He didn’t force it — just held it there, letting the pressure build until Connor’s body started to give. Inch by inch, he worked it inside, watching Connor’s stomach muscles tighten and his cuffed hands flex above him.
They took their time with it. Coop fucked him slow and steady with the thick toy while Rusty kept a hand on Connor’s chest, murmuring low encouragement.
“Easy… breathe through it. You’re doin’ good.”
After several minutes, Ray spoke again from the foot of the sling.
“Enough with the toy. Switch to fists.”
Rusty and Coop didn’t argue. They stripped down to their underwear — both of them wearing well-worn, heavily stained briefs that reeked of sweat, piss, and old cum. Their bulges were obvious, but they stayed focused on Connor.
Rusty went first.
He lubed up his hand and started slow, working his fingers in one at a time until he had four inside. Connor’s body jerked in the sling, a muffled sound escaping around the gag. Rusty kept going, twisting and pushing until his hand finally sank in past the knuckles. Connor’s hole stretched wide around his wrist.
“Fuck, look at that,” Rusty muttered, almost to himself.
He started moving — slow, deep thrusts of his fist, pulling out just enough before sinking back in. Connor’s legs trembled in the stirrups.
After a few minutes, Rusty pulled out and stepped aside so Coop could take his turn.
Coop’s hand was bigger. He took his time working it in, but once he was past the knuckles he didn’t hold back as much. His fist moved in a steady, heavy rhythm, the wet sounds filling the basement along with Connor’s muffled breathing.
Ray had his cock out now, slowly stroking himself as he watched.
“Deeper,” he said, voice rough. “Don’t baby him. He can take it.”
Coop pushed in further. Rusty reached down and rubbed Connor’s stomach, feeling the bulge of Coop’s fist moving inside him.
Ray kept stroking, eyes locked on his son’s stretched hole.
“Harder,” he said. “Both of you. I want him wrecked before the night’s over.”
Rusty and Coop didn’t need to be told twice.
Rusty pulled his fist out of Connor’s hole with a wet sound and immediately pushed back in harder than before, twisting his wrist and driving deeper. Connor jerked hard in the sling, a muffled cry escaping around the gag. Coop took over a minute later, sinking his bigger hand in with less patience this time, working it in and out in heavy, steady thrusts that made Connor’s whole body rock.
Ray watched with dark eyes, still slowly stroking his cock.
“Enough,” he said after another minute. “I want you both in him.”
Rusty glanced up, breathing a little harder now. “You sure?”
Ray gave a short nod. “DP him. Both of you. At the same time.”
Coop pulled his fist free and wiped it on his stained briefs. He and Rusty stipped off their putrid briefs and lashed them to Connor face before moving into position, all without another word. Rusty stepped between Connor’s spread legs first, lining his thick cock up and pushing into the boy’s already stretched hole. Connor’s body tensed hard around him.
Coop moved in close behind Rusty, pressing against his back for a moment before guiding his own cock alongside Rusty’s. It took some work — Connor was tight even after the fisting — but between the two of them they slowly worked both heads inside. Connor’s muffled sounds grew louder around the gag as they stretched him open together.
Once they were both in, they started moving.
It was slow at first, the two older men finding a rhythm, their cocks sliding in and out of Connor’s hole side by side. The wet, filthy sounds filled the basement. Connor’s hands flexed uselessly in the cuffs above his head, his legs trembling in the stirrups.
Ray stepped closer.
Without asking, he reached down and took one of Connor’s nipples between his fingers, giving it a rough pinch before attaching a heavy clamp. Connor bucked hard in the sling. Ray did the same to the other side, letting the second clamp bite down. Then he stepped back just far enough to watch, one hand wrapped around his cock again, stroking steadily as he stared at where Rusty and Coop’s cocks were disappearing into his son.
“Fuckin’ look at that,” Ray muttered, mostly to himself. His eyes stayed locked on Connor’s stretched hole and the two thick cocks moving inside it. “That’s it… nice and deep. Don’t go easy on him.”
Rusty and Coop kept going, their hips moving in tandem now, both of them breathing harder as they double-fucked Ray’s son in the sling.
Ray just stood there watching, slowly stroking himself, the clamps on Connor’s nipples glinting under the dim basement lights.
Rusty and Coop kept fucking him.
They moved together in a steady, heavy rhythm, both of their thick cocks sliding in and out of Connor’s stretched hole at the same time. The wet, obscene sounds of their double penetration filled the basement, mixed with Connor’s muffled groans around the gag and the creaking of the chains holding the sling.
Ray stood at the head of the sling, stroking his cock faster now, eyes locked on where his son was getting used. His breathing had gone rough and uneven.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath. “Look at you…”
His hand moved quicker, and then his whole body tensed. Ray let out a low, guttural groan and stepped quickly to the head of the sling as he started to cum, pulling the other men's smelly briefs off Connor’s face and yanking his head back toward his rank crotch. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, splattering all over Connor’s face — across his cheeks, his forehead, and his quivering lips. Some of it landed on the leather gag and began running uncontrollably into Connor's mouth. Ray kept stroking through it, milking out every drop onto his son’s face.
The sight of Ray seeding his own son pushed both Rusty and Coop over the edge at the same time.
Rusty cursed under his breath and buried himself as deep as he could go, his cock pulsing hard as he unloaded inside Connor. Coop was right behind him, groaning as he thrust in one last time and started flooding the boy’s guts alongside Rusty. Both men stayed buried in him, their cocks throbbing and twitching as they pumped stream after stream of warm sperm into his stretched hole.
When they finally started to pull out, it was slow and messy. As soon as both cocks slipped free, a thick gush of cum followed — a heavy, wet mixture of both their loads pouring out of Connor’s wrecked hole and splattering loudly onto the concrete floor beneath the sling.
Rusty let out a long breath and stepped back, his cock still half-hard and shiny with cum. Coop did the same, both of them staring down at the mess they’d made of Ray’s son.
Ray was still standing there, breathing hard, slowly stroking the last few drops of cum from his cock as he looked down at Connor’s cum-covered face and gaping, leaking hole.
“Fuck, that's so hot!” he breathlessly gasped.
For a moment, the three older men just stood there, breathing hard and admiring the wreckage they’d made of Ray’s son.
Connor was still strapped into the sling, his face streaked with his father’s cum, his hole gaping and steadily dripping thick loads onto the concrete below. The nipple clamps were still biting into his chest, and his body trembled slightly with every breath.
Then Ray spoke.
“Piss on him.”
Without hesitation, all three men started pissing.
Heavy streams of beer piss hit Connor from three directions at once. Rusty and Coop aimed low at first, soaking his chest, stomach, and cock, while Ray stepped right up to his son’s head. He reached down and unbuckled the gag, pulling it out of Connor’s mouth. Before Connor could even catch his breath, Ray aimed his thick stream directly between his lips.
“Open up, boy!” Ray commanded roughly.
Connor obeyed, mouth falling open as his father’s hot piss flooded over his tongue and down his throat. He gulped down what he could, choking a little as the strong, bitter taste hit him, but he kept swallowing. The rest of Ray’s piss — and the streams from Rusty and Coop — poured over his face, his hair, and his body, running down to join the growing, filthy puddle on the floor beneath the sling.
When they finally finished, Connor was soaked, dripping, and gasping.
Ray tucked his cock away and gave a short nod.
“To the bed!”
Rusty and Coop immediately moved to free him. They unbuckled the cuffs from his wrists and lifted his legs out of the stirrups. Connor was shaky on his feet, but they didn’t give him time to steady himself. They half-dragged, half-carried him across the room and flung him down onto the filthy king-sized mattress in the corner.
The mattress reeked — old piss, sweat, and dried cum all mixing into one heavy, sour stench. Connor landed on his back with a wet sound, the filthy fabric sticking to his piss-soaked skin.
Ray walked over slowly, reached down, and picked up one of the crusty jockstraps lying near the mattress. It was stiff with countless old loads, the fabric brown and blotchy. Without a word, he shoved it into Connor’s mouth, stuffing the filthy pouch between his lips.
“Keep that in there,” Ray said quietly, leaning down close to his son’s ear. “You don’t even know how many different men have blown their loads into that thing. At least dozens. Probably more.”
Connor’s eyes were wide, but he didn’t spit it out.
Ray took a step back and started stripping.
He peeled off his shirt, then shoved his pants and boots off until he was standing there completely naked. His body was thick and hairy, with a heavy gut and a thick patch of dark pubes. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear — a pair of once-white briefs that were now deeply yellowed and stained, the fabric stiff in places with old piss and dried cum. He’d clearly been wearing them for weeks.
With a low grunt, he peeled them off. The smell hit immediately — heavy, musky, and rank.
Ray reached down and yanked the crusty jockstrap out of Connor’s mouth. Before his son could even close it, Ray wadded up his filthy tightie-whities and shoved them between Connor’s lips instead.
Connor made a muffled sound as the strong, sour taste of his father’s unwashed underwear hit his tongue.
Ray let out a low, smug laugh and reached down, rubbing the top of Connor’s head the way someone might praise a small child.
“That’s it,” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “Suck on those. Get all that juice out.”
He stood there watching, slowly stroking his cock as Connor obediently sucked on the filthy fabric. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet basement. Ray’s expression was one of pure, filthy pride.
After a minute, he reached down and ripped the soaked briefs back out of Connor’s mouth. Before Connor could catch his breath, Ray climbed onto the filthy mattress, swung one leg over his son’s head, and lowered his heavy, greasy ass directly onto Connor’s face.
“Eat it,” Ray ordered, grinding down. “Get your tongue in there.”
Connor’s muffled sounds were lost under Ray’s ass as the older man started rocking his hips, smearing his musky hole across his son’s mouth and nose. Every so often, Ray would lift up just enough to let Connor gasp for air, then drop back down and grind harder.
After a while, he shifted forward and shoved his leaking cock into Connor’s mouth instead, fucking into the wet heat for a few strokes before pulling back and sitting on his face again. He kept alternating — grinding his filthy ass on Connor’s tongue for a minute, then feeding him his cock, back and forth, using his son’s mouth however he wanted.
Rusty and Coop stood nearby, watching in silence, both of them still rock-hard.
Ray looked up at Coop from where he was still grinding his ass on Connor’s face.
“Get the jar.”
Coop didn’t need to be told twice. He walked over to a small, beat-up refrigerator tucked against the back wall of the basement. He opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a large mason jar. It was nearly full of a thick, blotchy-white substance that had clearly been frozen and was now mostly thawed. The contents looked viscous and uneven, with visible streaks and clumps throughout.
Coop unscrewed the lid as he walked back over.
“It’s all defrosted,” he reported, giving the jar a little shake. The contents sloshed heavily inside.
Ray grinned.
He pushed himself up off Connor’s face and took the jar from Coop. Connor was still gasping for air, his face shiny with spit and sweat, when Ray reached down and pinched his nose shut between two thick fingers.
At the same time, Rusty and Coop each dropped a knee onto one of Connor’s shoulders, pinning him firmly to the filthy mattress.
Ray tilted the jar.
The first thick glob of cum slid out slowly and dropped directly into Connor’s open mouth. Connor made a choked sound, his body jerking under the weight of the two men holding him down, but Ray didn’t stop. He kept the jar tilted, letting the cold, viscous mixture pour steadily into his son’s mouth.
“This,” Ray said calmly, watching the cum flow, “is the cum jar.”
He paused just long enough for Connor to swallow a mouthful before continuing.
“Every load we’ve shot down here over the last few weeks. Mine. Rusty’s. Coop’s. Some from a few other guys who’ve been through. And the last boy who was in this exact same spot you’re in right now — he contributed his share before we sent him home.”
Another thick wave of cum plopped into Connor’s mouth. Ray waited, watching his throat work as he forced himself to swallow.
“Keep going,” Ray said, voice low and steady. “We’re not wasting any of it.”
He tipped the jar again, pouring more of the cold, lumpy mixture into his son’s mouth, only pausing when Connor started to gag so he could catch his breath before the next slow pour.
When the jar was nearly empty, Ray pulled it away from Connor’s mouth. Without a word, Rusty and Coop each grabbed one of Connor’s legs and lifted them up, folding the boy nearly in half on the filthy mattress and exposing his wrecked, cum-smeared hole.
Ray tilted the jar one last time and slowly poured most of the remaining thick, cold contents directly onto Connor’s stretched cunt. The lumpy mixture slid down over his hole in heavy globs. Ray didn’t waste any time. He lined his cock up and shoved it inside, fucking the cold cum deep into his son with hard, deliberate thrusts.
Rusty and Coop stayed where they were, holding Connor’s legs open and watching as Ray used him.
Ray started fucking harder.
Every few minutes he would pull out, grab what was left in the jar, and pour another thick stream of the cold, multi-load mixture onto Connor’s hole before slamming back in and pounding it deeper. The wet, filthy sounds of his cock churning the cum inside his son filled the basement. Connor was moaning helplessly around the taste still coating his tongue, his body jolting with every brutal thrust.
After nearly ten minutes of this, the jar was finally empty.
Ray tossed it aside and grabbed Connor’s ankles, holding his legs wide apart as he started really pounding him. His hips snapped forward hard and fast, his heavy balls slapping loudly against Connor’s ass with every thrust.
“Here comes your father’s load, boy!” Ray growled, voice rough and loud. “You’re gonna take it all!”
He slammed in balls-deep one final time and stayed there, his whole body locking up as he started to cum. His cock jerked and pulsed inside Connor’s hole as thick jets of fresh sperm blasted deep into his son’s guts. Ray kept grinding against him through it, groaning as he emptied every drop into Connor’s already flooded hole.
“Yeah, fuck yeah…” Rusty and Coop murmured low and lustily from either side of the mattress, watching as Ray stayed buried deep inside his son, twitching through the last pulses of his orgasm.
Ray finally pulled out with a wet sound. His cock was shiny and dripping with cum. Without a word, he moved up Connor’s body and shoved his messy cock into his son’s mouth.
“Clean it,” he ordered.
Connor obediently started sucking, tasting the mixture of his father’s sperm and the contents of the cum jar on Ray’s cock. Ray held his head and slowly fucked into his mouth for a few strokes before pulling out.
Rusty reached over and handed Ray the empty mason jar.
Ray took it without looking, then shifted back down between Connor’s legs. He grabbed his son’s throbbing cock, gave it a few rough strokes, and then leaned down and swallowed it to the root in one motion.
Connor’s whole body jerked hard against the hands still holding his legs. Ray didn’t tease — he just started deep-throating him in steady, wet strokes. It didn’t take long. Within seconds Connor was moaning around the taste still in his mouth as he started to cum.
Ray kept his mouth sealed around his son’s cock as Connor unloaded, swallowing the first few pulses before pulling off. He quickly brought the mason jar up under Connor’s cock and let the rest of the thick load spurt into it. When Connor finally stopped twitching, Ray leaned in and spat the cum he’d kept in his mouth into the jar as well, adding to the fresh load.
He held the jar out to Coop without a word.
Coop took it, screwed the cap back on, and walked over to the refrigerator, slipping the jar into the freezer alongside a couple carefully-labelled others in there.
Ray stayed kneeling between Connor’s legs, breathing a little hard as he looked down at his son’s spent, cum-streaked body.
“That one’s for the next initiate,” he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
—
Ray and Connor had left about twenty minutes ago.
Now the basement was quiet except for the wet sounds coming from the television. A gangbang scene played on the big screen — some skinny twink getting passed around by a group of rough, older men. Rusty and Coop were sprawled naked on the broken-down couch facing the TV, the cushions stained dark with years of piss and cum. Both men were lazily stroking their cocks, not in any rush, just watching.
Rusty let out a slow breath, his hand moving a little faster.
“Here it comes,” he said softly.
Coop didn’t hesitate. He leaned over, wrapped his mouth around Rusty’s cock, and took the full load. Rusty groaned quietly as he pumped into Coop’s mouth, his hand resting on the back of his head. Coop took it all without complaint, then pulled off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He reached down and grabbed a mason jar off the floor near the couch. It was labelled “Rusty” in faded marker and was already half full of frozen-solid cum. Coop unscrewed the lid, leaned over, and let Rusty’s fresh load pour from his mouth into the jar. He capped it, gave it a little shake, and stood up to walk it over to the freezer.
“Yours is more full than mine,” Coop said casually as he opened the freezer door. “I have some work to do before our anniversary.”
Rusty chuckled from the couch, still slowly stroking his softening cock.
“It’s just a couple months away, Coop. Better get going.” He grinned. “I want your jar as full as mine when we feed them to each other.”
Coop just grinned and nodded. He picked up his own jar — labelled “Coop” — from the floor, aimed his cock at the opening, and stroked out several thick jets of cum directly into it. He was still capping it when Rusty spoke again.
“All right, time for bed. Work tomorrow.” He stretched and yawned. “Bill’s coming by tomorrow night. Might bring Dylan.”
“That’ll be fun,” Coop replied as he slipped his jar into the freezer and shut the door.
The two men got up slowly, both of them moving like they were bone-tired. They gathered their clothes without bothering to put them on and shuffled naked up the basement stairs. At the top, Rusty reached back and snapped off the lights, leaving the basement dark and quiet once again.
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