Like Father
Dylan and Big Bill sat across from each other at the kitchen table in tense silence. The only sounds were the clink of forks against plates and the low hum of the refrigerator. Dylan hadn’t said a word since they got home. He just stared down at his food, jaw tight, clearly furious.
Big Bill finally set his fork down and spoke quietly.
“What’s on your mind, son?”
Dylan’s fork stopped moving. He looked up, eyes burning.
“You fucked him, Dad. You fucked Jack. My Jack.”
Big Bill stared at his lanky son for a long moment, then sighed heavily.
“I didn’t know, Dylan. I swear. I saw that pretty boy standing there in those tiny shorts and… I just lost it.”
Dylan’s voice cracked with anger and jealousy.
“I’ve had a crush on that kid since the first time he walked into the shop last summer. He was so fucking beautiful --- sweet face, big blue eyes, that innocent little smile. I finally got my chance one night when he came on Sniffies. I didn't even realize it was him. We hooked up in his bedroom. It was… intense. We even kissed during it. I thought maybe he’d come back around, but he never did. And then today I walk in and see you balls-deep in him like it’s nothing.”
Dylan stared at the floor, cheeks burning. “It wasn’t just that. When I walked in… I saw your cock. Your fucking enormous, leaking cock. It horrified me. It disgusted me. But it also… it made me feel something weird. A fascination. Like I couldn’t look away.”
Big Bill was quiet for a long time. The huge man stared at his wiry son, eyes searching. Finally he whispered, “Yes, son. It makes perfect sense. I understand.”
Dylan looked up, confused. “You… understand?”
“Yes I do.”
"Thanks for understanding, Dad. I shouldn't be getting mad at you. I should be thanking you for understanding, for my job, for everything! I'm sorry."
"Like I said son, it's ok. I understand."
Bill leaned forward and put his face close to Dylan’s, pinching his chin with his thumb. He gazed deep into the young man’s eyes and whispered, “I *understand.*”
Dylan locked eyes with his father for several seconds, his mind in a whir of confusion. "You, you understand...what?"
"I understand how you felt." Bill replied, then paused, hesitating, unsure of himself. Unsure whether his next words were wise to utter. He uttered them anyway.
"I understand how you felt," he repeated, then paused. "...in that moment,” he stammered, his voice cracking.
The men continued staring intently into each other’s eyes, letting them say the rest. Bill's turned to a look of longing. Dylan's showed a flash of sudden insight.
"In that moment you were...I was..." Dylan whispered.
"Shh...it's ok," his father whispered back. "I know. You know." He paused. "You know what you wanted. What we...both want."
After another long pause with eyes locked, and without saying another word, the two men leaned into each other until their lips met. They held the tender kiss for several seconds until Dylan pulled back and looked down.
“Dad… I… I can’t…” he stammered.
Undeterred, and without a word, Bill gently placed one huge hand on Dylan’s shoulder, leaned forward until their foreheads touched, then placed the other hand on his son’s chest. He felt Dylan’s heart beating strong and fast as he slowly unbuttoned the top of his shirt, inserting his hand to feel the young man’s smooth flat chest, gently circling his fingertip around one nipple then the other.
Dylan didn’t resist. He didn’t move. He raised his eyes to his father’s face and slowly reached out to the huge man’s broad sturdy pecs. In one swift move, as if something suddenly gave way, Dylan ripped Bill’s shirt wide open and planted his face between those hairy bulging chest muscles, slowly licking the salty sweat from his father’s body.
From there everything happened in a slow, heated rush.
Hands wandered. Shirts were torn off. The men embraced in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever.
Bill took Dylan by the hand and led him to his bedroom. They stood facing each other for a minute, hands clasped, until Bill reached down and unbuckled Dylan’s belt, dropping his dirty work pants to the floor. He did the same with his own. They stood in just their underwear --- Bill in his stained and smelly tightie-whities, Dylan in a clean but well-worn swimmer’s jockstrap. Bill’s huge hands settled on his son’s firm exposed ass, squeezing gently and pulling Dylan in close to him. They both smiled at each other, eyes locked.
Bill dropped to his knees, peeled down Dylan’s jockstrap, and admired the stiff, brownish cock that sprang out, a single clear droplet already forming at the tip. He took it into his mouth, cupping Dylan’s high, tight, but full round balls, and slid his lips all the way down until his nose was buried in his son’s untamed black pubic bush. It smelled of sweat and musky cock.
Dylan moaned, hands grasping his father’s hair. He pulled Bill back up, dropped to his own knees, and finally freed the incredibly thick cock he had seen earlier that day—the cock that made him. He kissed it reverently up and down the shaft, then took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking with desperate hunger, tasting the salty pre-cum that was steadily flowing out.
Bill swept Dylan up into his arms and gently laid him on the big bed, then climbed in next to him. Bill spun around, rolled onto his back, and pulled Dylan on top of him in a 69 position. The huge man swallowed Dylan’s cock to the root in one smooth motion while Dylan struggled to take as much of his father’s beer-can-thick shaft as he could, gagging wetly around the fat head. Their bodies moved in a slow, hungry rhythm—Bill’s heavy belly pressing down on Dylan’s chest, Dylan’s face buried between his father’s thick thighs, both of them moaning and slurping loudly. The room filled with the wet sounds of mouths working cocks and the heavy, musky scent of sweat and precum.
Then Bill flipped Dylan onto his stomach, spread his son’s cheeks wide, and buried his face between them. He licked and sucked at Dylan’s tight hole with long, greedy strokes, tongue pushing deep inside the salty, slightly bitter ring while Dylan whimpered into the pillow. Bill growled as he ate him, the strong, musky, masculine smell of Dylan’s post-work ass filling his lungs, driving him wild. He alternated between long, flat licks across the pucker and stiff, probing thrusts of his tongue, savoring every inch of his son’s most private place.
Bill climbed on top of Dylan, his massive frame completely covering his son’s leaner body. He reached down and lined up the fat head of his cock against Dylan’s spit-slicked hole, then slowly pushed forward. Dylan let out a low, strained groan as Bill’s thick cock forced its way inside, stretching him open inch by inch until Bill was buried to the hilt. Bill paused for a moment, breathing heavily, then started to fuck his son.
They moved together in a steady, powerful rhythm, the bed creaking loudly beneath them. Bill’s massive body pressed Dylan firmly into the mattress as he drove into him with long, deep strokes. Dylan lay flat on his stomach, his legs spread just enough to accommodate his father’s thick frame. His hands clutched at the sheets while Bill’s heavy gut rested against his lower back with every thrust. The room quickly filled with the wet sound of skin on skin, Bill’s low grunts, and their heavy breathing.
Bill’s pace grew rougher as he got closer. His massive body tensed, his toes curling hard against the sheets. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself as far as he could and started to cum. Thick, powerful ropes of cum erupted from his cock, flooding Dylan’s hole in long, heavy pulses. It felt endless — one thick spurt after another pumping deep inside his son as Bill’s whole body shuddered on top of him. Dylan could feel every hot jet filling him up, the cum already beginning to leak out around Bill’s still-thrusting cock and running down between his thighs.
“Ohh, Dad,” Dylan whimpered, then more forcefully, “Oh… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!”
Bill quickly slid out, a heavy gush of his own sperm rushing out after him, and lay on his back.
“On my face, son,” he commanded gently but firmly.
Dylan quickly complied, straddling his father’s chest and pointing his cock squarely at Bill’s big broad scruffy face. He unloaded jet after jet of thick white seed onto the huge man’s beard, lips, nose, and cheeks.
Spent, Dylan collapsed next to his father on the bed, nuzzled into his old man's musky armpit, and whispered, “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, son,” Bill replied, voice deep and warm. “I love you so much. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I never want to see you hurt.”
Tired from the long day, they quickly drifted off to sleep, Dylan’s cum still slowly dripping down his father’s thick neck.
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