I’ve always prided myself on being the perfect family man. At 44, I’m the director of a bustling insurance company, coming home every evening to my wife Cindy, whom I’ve been married to for 20 years, and our bright nine-year-old daughter, Alice. Our life in the suburbs is steady, predictable—dinners around the table, school runs, weekend barbecues. But when we planned that family vacation to Greece, everything shifted. Alice fell ill just days before departure, a nasty flu that left her bedridden and feverish. The doctors said she needed constant care, so Cindy volunteered to stay behind. The tickets were non-refundable, and with a sigh, she suggested I still go. 'Take your dad,' she said, kissing my cheek. 'He could use a break.'
Bill, my 67-year-old father, had been retired for years, living alone in his modest house since Mom passed five years ago from cancer. Loneliness had hit him hard, so he’d invited his best friend Dan—a fellow widower, also retired—to move in with him. They’d been inseparable since their Army days, thick as thieves. I called Dad that evening, proposing the trip. 'Hey, Pop, what if you and Dan join me? We’ve got three tickets burning a hole in my pocket.' There was a pause on the line, then his gravelly voice warmed up. 'Sounds like a plan, son. Dan and I could use some sun.'
Cindy teased me as I packed. 'Don’t go flirting with all those Greek girls, Mike. Remember who’s waiting at home.' I laughed it off, pulling her into a hug. 'As if. It’s just beaches and ouzo with the old men.' Two days later, we boarded the flight—me in the middle seat, Dad on one side, Dan on the other. They chatted animatedly the whole way, their shoulders brushing more than I expected from just buddies.
Greece was paradise. We checked into a sun-drenched villa on a cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea, whitewashed walls and bougainvillea everywhere. The first few days blurred into a haze of lazy swims, fresh seafood lunches, and evening strolls through cobblestone streets. But something nagged at me. Dad and Dan were... close. Unusually so. They’d linger in their shared room longer than necessary in the mornings, emerging with rumpled clothes and knowing smirks. At dinner one night, Dan’s hand rested on Dad’s knee under the table—I caught the motion from the corner of my eye, quick and casual, but it sent a jolt through me. I shook it off as paranoia. They were old friends, right?
It was the fourth evening when everything shattered. The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in oranges and pinks. I’d gone for a solo walk to clear my head, the salty breeze whipping at my shirt. Returning early, I headed to our villa, the door to Dad and Dan’s room slightly ajar—probably from the sea wind. Muffled sounds drifted out: grunts, heavy breathing, the creak of bedsprings. Curiosity pulled me closer. I peered through the crack, and my world tilted.
There was Dad, my father, bent over the edge of the bed, his pants pooled at his ankles, his hairy ass thrust back as Dan pounded into him from behind. Dan’s thick cock—veined and slick—slid in and out of Dad’s hole with wet, rhythmic slaps. Dad’s face was twisted in ecstasy, mouth open, moaning like a man possessed. 'Fuck me harder, Dan,' he gasped, his voice rough and needy. 'Give it to me, just like that.' Dan gripped Dad’s hips, his belly slapping against Dad’s back as he drove deeper. 'You’re so tight, Bill. Always take it like a champ.' Sweat glistened on their bodies, the room thick with the musk of sex. Dad’s own cock dangled hard between his legs, leaking pre-cum onto the sheets as Dan reached around to stroke it.
I froze, heart hammering. My father—gay? A slut for his best friend? Shock burned through me, but beneath it, something darker stirred. Watching Dad’s body yield, his ass clenching around that invading cock, ignited a heat in my groin I couldn’t ignore. My dick twitched in my shorts, hardening against my will. I backed away silently, fleeing to the bathroom down the hall, locking the door with shaking hands.
Leaning against the sink, I unzipped, pulling out my throbbing cock. It was already slick at the tip. Images flooded my mind: Dad’s moans, the way his hole stretched around Dan’s shaft, the raw hunger in his eyes. I wrapped my fist around my length, stroking fast and rough. 'Fuck, Dad,' I whispered to my reflection, imagining it was me behind him, my cock buried in that welcoming ass. Pleasure built quick, my balls tightening as I pictured him begging for my seed. I came hard, spurting ropes of cum into the sink, gasping as waves of forbidden ecstasy crashed over me. What the hell was wrong with me? I was straight, married, a father. But the excitement lingered, a insistent pulse.
That night at dinner, I couldn’t look Dad in the eye. Dan chattered about the next day’s boat tour, oblivious or pretending to be. Dad shot me a few concerned glances, but I played it off with forced smiles. The days dragged on, but my mind was elsewhere. Every glimpse of Dad—his broad shoulders in a loose shirt, the curve of his ass in swim trunks—stoked the fire. I jerked off twice more that week, always to thoughts of him, guilt warring with desire. Cindy called daily, asking about the beaches, but her voice felt distant. I was a straight man, damn it, with a perfect life. But the need to feel Dad under me, to claim what I’d seen Dan take, overrode everything. Screw the repercussions. I had to have him.
It started subtly. On the fifth morning, we were at the villa’s pool, the sun beating down. Dan had wandered off to the market for supplies, leaving just Dad and me lounging on chaises. Dad sipped his coffee, his chest hair peeking from his unbuttoned shirt. 'You’ve been quiet, son,' he said, eyeing me over his sunglasses. 'Everything alright?' I swallowed, my pulse racing. 'Yeah, Pop. Just... thinking.' My gaze dropped to his lap, where the outline of his cock pressed against his shorts. He noticed, shifting slightly, but didn’t pull away.
That evening, after Dan crashed early from too much wine, I found Dad on the balcony, staring at the stars. The air was warm, crickets chirping. I stepped up beside him, our arms brushing. 'Dad,' I started, voice low. 'I saw you. With Dan. The other night.' He stiffened, turning to face me, his face paling in the moonlight. 'Mike... shit. I didn’t want you to find out like that.' I held up a hand. 'It’s okay. I mean, it’s a shock, but... it doesn’t change anything. You’re still my dad.' Lies. It changed everything. My cock stirred at the memory.
He sighed, rubbing his neck. 'Your mom knew, back in the day. It was always there, but I loved her. After she died... Dan and I, we just... it happened. He’s more than a friend.' His eyes searched mine, vulnerable. 'You gonna tell anyone?' I stepped closer, the heat of his body drawing me in. 'No. But Dad... seeing you like that. It did something to me.' His breath hitched. 'What do you mean?' I reached out, my hand grazing his arm, feeling the wiry hairs. 'It turned me on. Watching you take it, moaning like that. I’ve been hard for you ever since.'
His eyes widened, but he didn’t retreat. 'Mike, you’re married. Straight. This ain’t right.' Even as he said it, his nipples hardened under his shirt. I pressed forward, my chest against his. 'Fuck right. I want you, Dad. Let me show you.' Before he could protest, I kissed him—hard, demanding, my tongue pushing past his lips. He froze for a second, then groaned, his mouth opening to me. His stubble scraped my skin as our tongues tangled, tasting of ouzo and salt. My hands roamed his back, pulling him close, feeling his cock stiffen against my thigh.
We broke apart, both breathing heavy. 'Jesus, son,' he murmured, his hand cupping my face. 'We shouldn’t.' But his eyes burned with the same hunger I felt. I grabbed his wrist, tugging him inside to my room—Dan’s snores echoed from down the hall. The door clicked shut, and I shoved Dad against it, yanking his shirt open. Buttons popped, revealing his hairy chest, silver-streaked but firm from years of manual labor. I latched onto a nipple, sucking hard, my teeth grazing the bud. He hissed, fingers threading into my hair. 'Fuck, Mike... easy.' But his hips bucked forward, grinding his erection against me.
I dropped to my knees, fumbling with his belt. 'I need to taste you, Dad.' His shorts hit the floor, and his cock sprang free—thick, uncut, with a heavy foreskin and veins bulging along the shaft. It wasn’t as long as mine, but girthy, the head already peeking out, slick with pre-cum. I inhaled his musky scent, balls hanging low and full. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I sucked, tongue swirling under the foreskin. Dad groaned, head thunking back against the door. 'Oh God, son... your mouth.' I took him deeper, bobbing my head, saliva dripping down his length as I hollowed my cheeks. He thrust shallowly, fucking my face, his hands guiding me. 'That’s it, take your old man’s cock. Suck it like you mean it.'
The words spurred me on. I gagged as he hit the back of my throat, but I didn’t stop, slurping noisily, one hand fondling his sack. His balls drew up, and with a guttural moan, he came—hot spurts flooding my mouth, salty and thick. I swallowed every drop, milking him dry until he softened.
Panting, he pulled me up, kissing me fiercely, tasting himself on my tongue. 'My turn,' he growled, pushing me onto the bed. He stripped me roughly, my cock slapping against my stomach, aching for release. Dad’s eyes darkened as he eyed it. 'Bigger than mine, huh? Bet Cindy loves this monster.' He leaned down, licking from base to tip, then engulfing me in wet heat. His mouth was sloppy, eager, beard tickling my thighs as he deep-throated me. I bucked up, fucking his face. 'Dad... fuck, yes. Suck your son’s dick.' He hummed around me, the vibration sending shocks through my body.
But I wanted more. Flipping him onto his back, I spread his legs, exposing that hairy ass I’d fantasized about. His hole winked at me, still loose from Dan’s earlier fucks, but I didn’t care. I spat on my fingers, probing him, feeling the heat and give. 'Gonna fuck you, Dad. Fill you up.' He nodded, legs wrapping around me. 'Do it. Breed your father.' I slicked my cock with spit, pressing the head against his pucker. It resisted, then yielded, swallowing me inch by inch. He was tight, velvet walls gripping me like a vice. 'So fucking good,' I groaned, bottoming out, balls against his ass.
I thrust slow at first, savoring the drag, watching his face contort in pleasure. 'Harder, Mike. Pound me.' Obeying, I slammed in, the bed creaking under us. Skin slapped skin, his ass clenching with each plunge. He jerked his re-hardening cock in time with my rhythm. 'You’re my slut now, Dad. Taking your boy’s cock like a pro.' He moaned, 'Yes... fuck your daddy’s hole. Make me cum again.' Sweat poured off us, the room filling with our grunts and the squelch of my dick reaming him.
I flipped him onto all fours, mounting him like an animal, one hand on his hip, the other pulling his hair. Deeper angles hit his prostate, making him yelp. 'Right there! Don’t stop!' My orgasm built, balls slapping his. 'Gonna cum inside you, Dad. Mark you as mine.' He clenched hard. 'Fill me, son!' I roared, erupting, pumping thick loads into his guts. The sensation triggered him; his cock pulsed, shooting cum onto the sheets without a touch.
We collapsed, tangled and spent, his head on my chest. 'What now?' he whispered. I stroked his back. 'We keep this between us. But I’m not done with you.' The vacation had days left, and I planned to fuck him every chance—poolside quickies, midnight romps while Dan slept. Back home, it might end, but here in Greece, Dad was mine. And damn, it felt right.
The morning after our first fuck dawned bright and unrelenting, the Greek sun streaming through the shutters like it knew our secrets. Dad stirred beside me, his body warm and heavy against mine, the scent of dried sweat and cum clinging to the sheets. I watched him wake, his eyes fluttering open, a slow smile spreading across his face when he saw me. 'Morning, son,' he murmured, his voice husky from the night. No regret in his tone—just a spark of something wicked. I pulled him close, my hand sliding down to squeeze his ass, still tender from my pounding. 'Morning, Dad. Ready for round two?' He chuckled, but there was a new edge to it, a breathy eagerness that made my cock twitch.
We didn't waste time. Dan was still out cold, so I flipped Dad onto his stomach, spreading his cheeks to admire the puffy ring I'd claimed. 'Look at you, already leaking my load,' I said, dipping a finger in to scoop out some of my dried seed. He moaned, pushing back. 'Can't help it, Mike. You wrecked me good.' I slapped his ass cheek lightly at first, the flesh jiggling under my palm. He gasped, but arched higher. 'Harder,' he whispered, surprising me. I obliged, bringing my hand down with a sharp crack that echoed in the room. Red bloomed on his skin, and he whimpered, 'Yes... punish your old man.' The slutty plea ignited me. I spanked him again, alternating cheeks, watching them turn pink, then crimson, as he writhed and begged. 'I'm your whore, son. Mark me.' By the tenth smack, his cock was grinding into the mattress, pre-cum soaking the fabric. I couldn't hold back—I mounted him, slamming my dick into his slick hole without prep. He howled, the sound muffled by the pillow, his walls clenching around me like a fist. I fucked him raw, each thrust punctuated by another spank, turning his ass into a canvas of my dominance. 'Take it, you filthy slut,' I growled, and he did, cumming untouched as I flooded him again.
That set the tone for the next days. Dad transformed before my eyes, shedding any lingering shame like old skin. Where he'd been hesitant at first, now he craved it, initiating with a boldness that shocked and thrilled me. One afternoon by the pool, while Dan napped inside, Dad cornered me behind the villa's stone wall. 'Need you now,' he panted, dropping to his knees in the dirt, yanking my swim trunks down. His mouth engulfed my cock, sucking with sloppy urgency, drool running down his chin as he deep-throated me. Tourists milled nearby, but he didn't care, humming around my shaft until I gripped his hair and face-fucked him, shooting down his throat while he swallowed greedily. 'More,' he demanded after, bending over a lounge chair, presenting his ass. I spanked him there in the open air, the slaps drawing curious glances, but he just moaned louder, 'Spank your daddy harder, make it hurt.' I railed him bent over, his hole greedy and wet, until we both collapsed in a heap, laughing breathlessly at our recklessness.
Evenings brought quieter intimacies that deepened our bond. After dinner one night, with Dan dozing on the couch from the heat, we retreated to the balcony. Dad kicked off his sandals, propping his feet on my lap. His soles were callused from years of walking, toes gnarled but clean, a faint salty tang in the air. 'You've been staring at them,' he said with a sly grin, wiggling his big toe. I hadn't realized, but the thought hit me hard—another layer of submission. I lifted his foot, pressing my lips to the arch, tongue tracing the rough skin. He sighed, eyes half-lidded. 'That's it, son. Worship me.' I licked slowly, savoring the earthy flavor, sucking each toe into my mouth one by one, feeling his cock harden in his shorts. He tasted of sun and sea, and the act felt intimate, degrading in the best way. 'Good boy,' he murmured, stroking himself through the fabric.
Emboldened, he returned the favor later in my room. I lay back as he knelt at the bed's end, his rough hands massaging my calves before his mouth descended. His beard scratched my instep as he lapped at my heel, tongue delving between my toes with fervent laps. 'Your feet are perfect, Mike—so strong,' he mumbled, nipping the ball of my foot before sucking my toes deep, his saliva coating me. The sensation shot straight to my groin; I stroked my leaking cock watching him debase himself. 'Suck them like my dick, Dad,' I ordered, and he did, moaning as if it were the best meal. We ended up sixty-nining on the floor, feet in each other's faces while we devoured cocks—me tonguing his hairy crack while he rimmed me, our bodies slick and entangled until mutual release left us gasping.
Dad's sluttiness escalated with every encounter. He'd text me from the bathroom during meals—'Ass sore from your spanks, but I want more'—or flash his hard-on under the dinner table, whispering, 'Feel how wet I am for you.' I spanked him daily now, bending him over furniture, his pleas growing filthier: 'Beat me red, son, then breed me like the cumdump I am.' Our foot play became ritual—nights where we'd lounge naked, licking and sucking soles while jerking each other off, the mix of tenderness and perversion binding us tighter.
But paradise couldn't stay secret forever. It happened on the penultimate night, the air thick with impending storm clouds. Dan had gone to a local taverna for drinks, or so we thought—he'd slipped back early, silent as a shadow. Dad and I were in my room, lost in the heat. I'd just finished spanking him over my knee, his ass a glowing scarlet, handprints vivid. He knelt between my legs, licking my feet with abandon, his tongue swirling around my ankle as I fed him my cock, slow and deep. 'You're such a greedy slut for me,' I groaned, thrusting up. He pulled off with a pop, grinning wickedly. 'Only for you, Mike. Now flip me and fuck—' The door creaked open.
Dan stood there, eyes wide, but not in shock—arousal. His pants tented obviously, face flushing as he took in the scene: Dad's marked ass, my slick dick, the intimate foot worship. 'Holy shit,' he breathed, not moving to leave. Dad froze, but I saw the excitement flicker in his eyes. 'Dan... we can explain,' Dad started, but Dan shook his head, stepping inside and locking the door. 'No need. I've wanted this—both of you. Bill's told me bits, but seeing it... fuck, it's hot.' He palmed his bulge, voice rough. 'Mind if I join?'
Dad looked to me, slutty hunger plain. 'What do you say, son?' I nodded, pulse racing at the taboo thrill. 'Get in here.' Dan stripped fast, his body stockier than Dad's, cock shorter but fat, already dripping. He dropped beside Dad, kissing him fiercely while I watched, stroking myself. 'Suck him, Bill,' Dan ordered, and Dad obeyed, mouth stretching around that girth as Dan spanked his already bruised ass. 'Look at these marks—your boy's been rough.' I moved behind Dad, sliding into his hole easily, the familiar grip making me groan. We found a rhythm: me pounding Dad's ass, Dan fucking his face, Dad moaning around the intrusion.
It turned wild quick. Dan pulled out, pushing Dad onto the bed on all fours. 'My turn back here,' he said, but I shook my head. 'Together.' We lubed up—spit and pre-cum sufficing—and Dan entered Dad's ass alongside me, stretching him impossibly. Dad screamed in ecstasy, 'Oh fuck, yes—fill me both!' The friction was intense, our cocks rubbing through the thin wall, sliding in tandem as Dad bucked between us. He came first, untouched, cum splattering the sheets. Dan and I kept going, swapping to fuck his mouth while the other reamed him, then trading off.
We shifted: Dad on his back, legs wide, as Dan sucked his toes—mirroring our private play—while I deep-fucked his ass. 'Lick him good,' I commanded, spanking Dad's thighs. Dan obliged, slurping hungrily, then offered his own feet to Dad, who sucked them desperately. I pulled out, letting Dan take over, and straddled Dad's face, lowering my balls to his mouth. He tongued them eagerly, rimming me as Dan thrust. The room filled with slurps, slaps, and grunts—feet licked clean, asses spanked raw, cocks passed like toys.
Climax built in a frenzy. I bent Dad over again, spanking him hard while Dan fucked his mouth. 'Cum for us, slut,' I barked, fingers probing his hole. Dad shuddered, spilling a third load. Dan followed, pulling out to paint Dad's face in thick ropes. I took the final plunge, burying deep and erupting, my seed mixing with Dan's remnants inside him. We collapsed in a sweaty pile, limbs entangled, breaths syncing.
As the storm broke outside, rain lashing the windows, Dan chuckled. 'This trip just got legendary.' Dad, cum-streaked and sated, kissed my shoulder. 'Best vacation ever, son.' I held them both, the lines of family and desire forever blurred. Back home, life would resume—Cindy, Alice, the office—but this fire? It would burn on, smoldering in stolen moments. For now, in Greece, we were free.
The flight back from Greece felt like a descent into reality, the turquoise waters shrinking below us as the plane banked toward home. Dad sat beside me, our thighs brushing innocently now, but every accidental touch sent a jolt through my cock. Dan was across the aisle, winking at us both, his presence a reminder of the wild nights we'd shared. I stared out the window, replaying it all: Dad's ass reddening under my palm, his tongue on my toes, the stretch of him taking both our dicks. My shaft hardened in my pants, and I shifted, guilt gnawing at the edges. Cindy and Alice waited below—Cindy, my wife of twenty years, the mother of our daughter. How could I face her with this fire raging inside?
We landed, and the airport bustle swallowed us. Cindy hugged me tight at arrivals, her perfume familiar and grounding, Alice clinging to her leg with a weak smile, still pale from her illness. 'We missed you so much,' Cindy said, kissing my cheek. Dad ruffled Alice's hair, Dan hanging back with a polite nod. 'Trip was... eye-opening,' I muttered, forcing a grin. As we drove home, Dad in the back with Alice chattering about her recovery, I caught his eye in the rearview. Heat flickered there, unspoken promise. My mind wandered to his hole clenching around me, and I gripped the wheel harder.
That first night home, Cindy pulled me into the bedroom after Alice's bedtime story. 'Tell me everything,' she said, stripping off her shirt, her breasts soft and inviting. I kissed her, hands roaming her body, but as she sank to her knees and took my cock in her mouth, I pictured Dad's lips instead—sloppy, eager, begging for my load. She sucked with her usual affection, but I thrust deeper, imagining his throat, and came fast, groaning 'Dad' under my breath. She didn't hear, wiping her mouth with a smile. 'You seem different—more... intense. I like it.' We climbed into bed, and I fucked her missionary, slow at first, then pounding as visions flooded: spanking his crimson cheeks, our feet intertwined while we sixty-nined. Cindy's moans mixed with my grunts, her pussy wet and welcoming, but it was Dad's ass I felt gripping me. I exploded inside her, collapsing with a shudder. She cuddled close, content. 'Best welcome home ever.' I lay awake after, shocked at myself—excited, too. This depravity pulsed in my veins, twisting everything I knew.
Dad had moved back into his place with Dan, just a twenty-minute drive away, but the distance felt unbearable. Texts started innocently: 'Miss the sun?' he'd write, but replies turned filthy. 'Miss your cock more,' I'd send back, dick throbbing as I jerked off in the shower, Cindy downstairs making breakfast. We stole moments—a 'quick coffee' at his house while Cindy thought I was at the gym. Dan let me in with a smirk, then vanished to give us space. Dad was on me the second the door shut, dropping his pants and bending over the kitchen counter. 'Spank me, son—I've been bad without you.' I cracked my hand across his ass, the familiar sting making him yelp, his hole winking. I plunged in dry, the burn making us both hiss, fucking him against the cabinets until dishes rattled. He came on the floor, and I filled him, pulling out to watch my cum drip down his thighs. 'We can't stop,' he panted, kissing me deep.
Family dinners became our playground. Sundays at our house, Alice chattering about school, Cindy serving roast. Dad sat across from me, Dan beside him, all normalcy. But under the table, his foot found my crotch, socked toes rubbing my bulge through my slacks. I stifled a groan, fork pausing mid-air. 'Pass the salt?' I said hoarsely, and as he leaned, his sole pressed harder, tracing my shaft. I reciprocated, my bare foot—slipped from my shoe—sliding up his calf to nudge his balls. He shifted, eyes locking on mine, a flush creeping up his neck. Cindy laughed at Alice's joke, oblivious. Later, while clearing plates, Dad cornered me in the pantry. 'Need you now,' he whispered, dropping to suck my cock quick and dirty, swallowing my load before rejoining the table, lips shiny. I tasted myself on his breath when we hugged goodbye.
Another dinner at Dad's, Cindy bringing dessert. Midway through pasta, his hand vanished under the cloth, but it was his foot again—bare now, arch grinding my zipper. I toed his inner thigh in return, feeling the heat of his sack. Alice asked about Greece, and I mumbled answers, cock leaking pre-cum onto his sole. 'It was hot,' Dad said, winking. After, while Cindy helped with dishes, we slipped to the garage. He bent over the workbench, ass out. 'Fuck me quick, Mike.' I spanked him twice—sharp, echoing—then rammed home, covering his mouth as I thrust. His muffled moans vibrated against my palm; I bred him deep, pulling out just as Cindy called. He straightened, cum trickling, and we returned smiling.
Nights with Cindy intensified. She'd initiate more, loving my stamina. One evening, after Alice's bath, she rode me on the couch, tits bouncing, pussy clenching. 'God, Mike, you're insatiable lately.' I gripped her hips, but my mind was on Dad—his slutty pleas, the way he'd lick my feet like a devotee. I flipped her doggy, slamming in, spanking her ass lightly. She gasped, 'Yes, harder!' But I saw Dad's red cheeks, felt his hole instead. I came roaring, flooding her while picturing Dad's cum-smeared face. She collapsed, glowing. 'Whatever's gotten into you, don't stop.' I held her, heart pounding with secret thrill. Shocked at the betrayal, yet the excitement burned hotter—this taboo owned me.
Memories haunted me, twisting sweet into sin. Dad had always been my hero. As a kid, he'd toss the ball in the backyard, his strong hands guiding mine, laughter echoing as we tackled each other in the grass. 'You're gonna be a star, Mikey,' he'd say, ruffling my hair. Those afternoons blurred now with desire—I imagined pinning him down then, not for play, but to claim his ass. Teen years, he'd drive me to football practice, the car filled with his stories, cheering from the sidelines as I scored. In the locker room showers, I'd glance at his broad back when he picked me up, innocent awe. Now, those drives replayed with his hand on my thigh, pulling over to suck me off. And the talks—awkward confessions about crushes on girls at school. 'Treat 'em right, son,' he'd advise, clapping my shoulder. I'd blush, hiding my first hard-ons. If only he'd known then what I craved: bending him over the hood, spanking him for 'advice,' fucking away the years.
Dan texted occasionally, 'Bill's missing your spanks—come over?' We did, threesomes reigniting in stolen weekends when Cindy visited her sister. Dad on his knees, sucking us both, feet offered for licking while we double-teamed his ass. But home pulled us back to subtlety—foot rubs under tables turning to crotch teases, quick fucks in bathrooms during visits.
Months passed, the affair a hidden pulse in our lives. Cindy thrived on my energy, our sex frequent and fierce, her unknowing the fuel for my fantasies. Dad and I exchanged glances at every gathering, the air thick with want. One night, after a holiday dinner—Alice asleep upstairs, Dan and Cindy chatting in the living room—Dad followed me to the basement for 'tools.' He dropped his pants, bracing against the washer. 'Spank me baby.' I did, handprints blooming as I entered him, the machine humming to cover his cries. We fucked frantic, his hole milking me, feet locked around my calves. I came whispering, 'Love you, Dad—always have.' He shuddered, spilling, 'Me too, Mikey. This is us now.'
As we straightened, the depravity settled—not shame, but a dark joy. My hero, my slut, my secret. Life rolled on—work, family, normalcy—but beneath, the fire smoldered, ready to blaze.
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