br0b8:

“Just try it,” he keeps saying to me. “Nobody’s gonna know. It’s just us.”

“Dude, both of our girlfriends are upstairs,” I remind him. It’s not
exactly accurate – his girlfriend is now his fiance. But that’s a new thing.

“Yeah, and you know they won’t hear shit.” It’s true – we’re on the ground
floor of his fiance’s family’s enormous lake house. We’ve been partying down
there every night after they go to sleep and so far they’ve never complained.

He slides off his shorts. He isn’t wearing any underwear. He’s chubbed up
but that isn’t a surprise – he’s been tweaking his cock for the past hour
while he begged me to try sliding my cock in his ass.

“C’mon, man, I know you’re curious about this. You’re half hard, I can
fuckin see it.”

“Just cause I am doesn’t mean we should do it,” I say, sounding
more half-hearted than I’d like. The idea of fucking my best friend in the ass
would’ve seemed like a joke just two months ago. But then he’d admitted to me
that he’d gotten fucked before, that he’d fantasized about me fucking him. And
he’d gotten more and more aggressive about it until this vacation, when as soon
as our girlfriends went to sleep, he’d get on me about it hardcore. I’d resisted
up until now, giving excuses, telling him he as just drunk (which he was, we
both were, pretty much every night that week), going to bed when I felt my
resistance crumbling then fucking the shit out of my girlfriend cause he’d made
me so horny.

But why was I resisting? Just cause I was straight, cause I’d always assumed
he was, too? What kind of a reason was that?

“Just try it. If you don’t like it we can stop and then I’ll never rag
you about it again. I’m so fuckin horny,” he says, and tosses his
shorts aside and straddles the ottoman, pushing his ass back in my direction.

“Fuck, man,” he says, and moans as he spreads his cheeks, like the
very act of bending over has him ready to cum. I’d be a goddamn liar if I said
it wasn’t a fine ass – round, firm, tight-as-hell looking. “I’m so fucking
ready for it,” he says, reaching back and running his fingers across his
hole. He pauses with them there, then presses them in. I watch the tips of his two
fingers disappear inside of him and think, How
fucking good would that feel around your cock…

“I even lubed, up, dude.”

“With what?” I say, laughing.

“Vaseline,” he says, looking back at me, smiling. He turns back
around and presses his fingers in deeper. I like him like that – faced away
from me, his strong back arched like he isn’t my good buddy but at all but
just a piece of ass for the taking. “I did it in the bathroom just a bit
ago.”

“So you really think I’m gonna do it, don’t you,” I say, and slide
my hand under my shorts to feel my hard-on now that he can’t see me do it.

“I don’t know man but why the fuck not? Just slide it in once. Just
check it out. Think how good it’ll feel around your cock,” he says,
reading my mind. He presses his fingers in deeper. “Fuuuck,” he
moans.

“Goddamn man. You’re too horny for your own good,” I say. I stand up. My heart is beating so fast. My cock is pulsing with each beat.
Rock hard.

“No one’s gonna know. Just slide your shorts off…” I do as he
says. “…line your cock up to my hole and press it in. Fuck I need it in
me. C’mon man, please. Please.”

I step toward him. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna slide it in. He’s worn
down my will and now I’m gonna fuck him in the ass until I come.

by Natty Soltesz

undietales:

underthemattressblog:

“We’re gonna suck so much cock this summer, dudes.”

@underthemattressblog posted this snippet and grew the seed in my brain. I just had to…

We were on vacation, it was summer, and we were in a place where no one knew our names. It was the perfect recipe to get into some trouble. 

Brandon had just broken up with some girl named Bobbie and was in one of his moods when Charlie said, “Fuck it. Dudes, what if we just, like…Dude, fuck chicks. Honestly? We could probably go to like Key West or something and pull down dick for days.” 

Me and Brandon went quiet. We’d talked about it, more like talked around it. The three of us were interested, and yeah, we’d played around amongst ourselves, but dedicating an entire trip to fucking around with dudes? That was a little heavy. I said as much when I finally could speak. 

Charlie shook his head. “Why’s it a big deal? We’ll slut it up for a summer then go back to school and be respectable and shit again…”

Brandon rose an eyebrow at ‘respectable.’ He’d personally confided in me that he was on the verge of coming out a bi, so I think he didn’t take kindly to his straightish bro-friend turning the idea of messing around with dudes into a pejorative. But there’s a lot of history between us, so Brandon let it go. 

There was a lot to figure out, but when we booked a place and flew out a few days later, shit got real. 

Charlie was, as ever, the most excited. “We’re gonna suck so much cock this summer, dudes,” he’d said. 

He was fucking right. On the first day, within the first hour, we realized that the two guys living next to our rental house were giving us the vibes.  Charlie felt that since Brandon was getting over someone, that he should be the first to break us in. He was a little bashful, but we invited the guys over, and after a few beers, me and Charlie watched these two built boyfriends take turns fucking Brandon’s face. It was fucking beautiful. Of course, the boys next door tried to get me and Charlie to get in on the action, but we felt Brandon should take the glory. They took turns cumming on his face and in his hair. 

It was rad. 

We’d flown in on a Tuesday and by Thursday Charlie had downloaded grindr which was a fucking game-changer.

br0b8:

I first saw him when we were checking in at the ski resort. He was lugging bags out of his midsize SUV, his cute wife ushering his cute kids up the stairs of the hotel. We exchanged nods. I noticed the softball-sized bulge in the front of his blue jeans. I think he caught me looking.

I had no other plans that week but to ski all day and dream of skiing all night, turn off my brain and rev up my body after two months of obsessing over Kevin, my ex. Kevin who’d moved out with less than ten sentences of explanation, who’d not only left me but his cat, too.

My sister was looking after the cat, and I was splurging on a room in a classic ski resort hotel, all knotty pine beams and vaulted ceilings. My room had a deck facing the slopes, glowing white in the night.

I lit a cigarette and leaned over the railing, listening to the swish of blades cutting into the snow. I heard a sniff and looked over to see beefy forearms on the railing of the deck next door. I followed the glow of his cigarette as he raised it to his face – the dad from earlier.

“Evening,” he said softly. I could hear the kids carousing inside, the wife moderating.

“Hey,” I said, and he grinned like he knew something about me before he snubbed his cigarette and walked away.

I kept seeing him, always with his family. His wife never seemed to recognize me, nor his kids, and he always acknowledged me just when they weren’t paying attention, like while she was getting on the lift, or in the lodge after they’d already passed. He’d nod his head and give that grin.

Obsession’s a hard habit to break, but I did my best to keep him in the back of my mind. Then on Friday, I found myself jacking off for the first time in weeks. I thought of him, the sexy daddy from next door, sitting on my face and laying back to let me suck his fat dick, pulling me into his strong, thick body and making out with me. When I came it was like an adrenaline shot to the heart. I lay in shock for a good five minutes and then I laughed like an idiot. How had I completely lost touch with what made me feel good?

That night we were blessed with a foot of powder, and on Saturday I made good use of it, zipping around in the bright sunshine and having the time of my life. I saw him that afternoon on the south face. He was alone.

“Howdy neighbor,” he said. I said it was a beautiful day and he agreed.

“Where’s your family?” I said as we started off down the trail together.

“On a day trip. Shopping and a movie. They won’t be back till this evening,” he said.

“Interesting,” I said. At the bottom he asked if I wanted to join him for a beer, but then we couldn’t stop looking at each other while we took off our skis and by the time we got in the lodge we were practically panting.

“We could just go back to your room,” he said.

His dick was as fat as I imagined and when he slid it into my ass, his hands clutching my backside, his lips against mine, it felt so good I thought I might start laughing again. We were so turned on. He came inside me after a minute and I shot into the air like a fountain. Fifteen minutes later I was on top, bouncing on his cock like a horse on a carousel. We fucked for a good hour, fucked and kissed and laughed and edged and held each other close. He shot up my ass again, then bent down and sucked my cock till I shot in his mouth. He swallowed.

I didn’t regret it. Well, maybe when I ran into the whole family the next day as they were checking out. But sometimes you gotta say fuck it and just do something that feels good.

by Natty Soltesz

br0b8:

I typed away at my laptop while I waited for her to leave.
She was taking her time as usual, rearranging swimsuits, panties and flip flops
into little cells in her open roller bag, picking the cat up from the pile of
clothes he’d been settling himself into and petting him, purring at him, “You
be good, Gus, you ornery little guy…”

She gave me a smile and I looked up from my laptop and
smiled back, hoping that it appeared genuine. I was watching some stupid YouTube
video, who cared, just something to occupy the time until she was out the door.
I had four tabs open on a minimized window, each with a different gay porn
video cued up. All of dudes getting their ass ate out and fingered – my
favorite thing. Just the thought of it made my cock ooze out a pearl of precum
into my briefs as my girlfriend set down the cat and came behind me to wrap her
arms around my neck.

“You’re not gonna miss me too much, are ya?” she
said. One of the videos was of two guys who looked a lot like me and Greg –
handsome hardbodied dudes with firm strong asses, plump cheeks spread as they
fingered each other at the same time.

“Of course,” I said and kissed her hand, imagining
how I’d text Greg as soon as her car disappeared down the street, how he’d
arrive an hour or so later. There’d be small talk then we’d head up to the
bedroom, slide our clothes off, briefs too. Then I’d be buck naked with my
buddy, the two of us hard and ready to do any depraved thing we could imagine
to each other. “But it’s only for a week,” I said, and looked back at
the screen. She twisted my earlobe as she sauntered away.

I’d been texting Greg all day, keeping the phone on silent,
drifting off to the bathroom every half hour or so so I could get away from her
and tell him what I wanted to do to him, what I wanted him to do to me. Lick
each other from head to toe, eat the precum from the tip of his dick and make
out with him so we can share the taste, lick down his back and tease all around
it till my tongue finally speared into his hole. Spread for him, on all fours,
so he could make a feast of my ass. Moan louder than I ever do with my
girlfriend, kiss him more deeply than I ever kiss her. Savor the taste of his
ass, so much sweeter than her pussy. Sit on each other’s face, deep throat each
other’s cock. And maybe, just maybe, do it all. Me sliding into him and him
sliding into me. We’d never done it before.

She zipped up the roller bag, checked her makeup, whipped on
her jacket. “I guess that’s it,” she said, and looked around like she
might find one…last…thing.

by Natty Soltesz

12 Tales of Christmas (in July): Making Himself at Home

AUTHOR’S NOTE: the original image accompanying this post has been removed due to new Tumblr adult content guidelines.

I guess if I’d closed my bedroom door, I might never have known what was going on, and maybe none of this would have happened. But fuck it – this was my first place of my very own since my post-college days, and just like then, I liked sleeping with my bedroom door open. Now that I was divorced and in a space entirely my own, even more so. There was a weird kind of freedom in it, being able to sprawl out in my big new bed, to walk back and forth from the bathroom or the kitchen naked, and I was all about my freedom these days.

Still, this was the first time Eric was staying over, home from college for the Christmas break. He’d spent Thanksgiving at his mother’s new place across town, and I was half-nervous, half-excited to host him in my new digs. With the old family place in the suburbs gone now, I was making a point of letting him know there was space for him here – he might never think of it as ‘home’, exactly, but I wanted him to feel at home in my new place, a space he could call his own that wasn’t his dorm room on campus.

Eric had adapted pretty easily, and from the moment he’d dropped his bags in his new room a couple of days ago, the whole place immediately began to feel more like home for me. I liked having his energy around, and seeing how he was growing up into the fine young man he’d always promised to be. Divorces can be tough on kids, especially only kids, but he’d been a real trooper through the whole process. I’d missed him, for sure – it was great being single again, having the opportunity to redraw my life and do things my own way, for sure, but I could admit that it could be a little lonely at times too while I found my footing again.

I was glad to see him maintaining his old friendships, too. College has a way of diminishing your old ties, but Eric and Casey were still thick as thieves, like they’d been since middle school. When he’d asked if he could have Casey over, I’d agreed immediately.

“Of course, buddy,” I’d said. “This is your place too. Make yourselves at home.”

I hadn’t seen Casey in a little while, and just like Eric, he’d grown up a lot too. It was funny to see the two of them as the fine, handsome young men they’d become, no longer gangly preteens with squeaky voices, but college sophomores, basically adults, broader-shouldered and deeper-voiced. Still, they were as tight as ever, and any wistfulness I might have been feeling for the old days was pushed aside by genuine warmth and goodwill towards the two of them. The kids were alright, no matter what else happened, and that was all that mattered, at the end of the day.

When Eric asked if Casey could stay over, instead of slogging back across town through the overnight snow to his parents’ place back in our old suburb, I agreed right away. Another weird little throwback to the old days in the suburbs, when the two of them seemed to spend just about every weekend at each other’s house, right up until they headed off to college. I showed them how the new fold-out couch in the study worked and where the sheets were, then left them to their own devices down in the living room, while I headed upstairs to my room to read.

I guess I’d dozed off, waking up propped up against the headboard of my bed, my book laid flat in my lap. I looked over at the clock – just past midnight. The house was quiet. Or at least seemed that way, as my ears adjusted to the sounds of the house, and then started to pick up some quiet, unfamiliar noises. Low murmurs. Soft chuckles. The sounds of my son and his best buddy, in Eric’s room across the hall. And a soft, intermittent smacking sound that took me a second to identify.

Wait a minute, I thought. That’s kissing.

So my brain was maybe a little behind the pace from my nap, and I was wondering how on earth they’d gotten a girl over here, and more to the point, why I could hear both of them murmuring if there was a girl involved. Then I guess the mental fog lifted.

There’s no girl – it’s just them. Just Eric and Casey. Kissing. Each other.

The realization woke me all the way up, but I felt frozen in place. Susie and me had always been reasonably liberal as parents, realistic about what our son would get up to, even more so once he hit puberty. But we’d always kind of avoided the idea that Eric might have sex in our home, as dumb as that notion was. More than that, I’d never really considered that him and his best buddy might be messing around – sure, maybe jerking off together and stuff, but that wasn’t all that uncommon. I had a little bit of history with that myself, back when I was a young guy.

Now I didn’t know if I should move, make some noise to let them know I was awake and close by, give them a chance to tone it down or stop altogether. I felt a mix of embarrassment and little consternation, as the minutes went on and the sounds of their lips smacking, their happy little murmurs and chuckles carried across the hall. I felt a little bit like I was trapped, all of a sudden – trapped in my own home, behind my half-closed door. 

The longer you let it go on, the worse it gets, I thought. I wasn’t an indecisive person by nature, but the notion of confronting my son’s sex life – my grown, nearly-adult son’s sex life – wasn’t helping me get off my ass. I had to do something, even if it was just getting up and fully closing my bedroom door.

I quietly got up off my bed and padded across the carpet to do just that, but what I saw stopped me in my tracks, my hand on the edge of my door. I could see right across the hallway, to Eric’s bedroom door, which I expected to be closed. But it wasn’t. It was part-closed, like the two of them had gone in and pushed it closed behind them, but hadn’t stopped to make sure of it. Guess they were busy, and they sure looked it. I had a near-perfect view of the bed in there, the light turned low, but still bright enough to see.

Bright enough to see Eric and Casey, my boy and his best bud, hands all over each other as they made out, slow and deep, standing by the bed. They’d lost their sweaters, down to their jeans and T-shirts and socks, and I have to admit, they both looked fine. Eric had always been a good-looking kid, and Casey had really come into his own in that department in the last years of his teens, too. I could see the bigger muscles of their arms and shoulders under their T-shirts, the trimness of their waists. I felt myself blush, and I was about to try and quietly push my door closed, but then they separated, and I found myself watching. Seeing what would happen next.

“Missed you, buddy,” I could just make out Eric saying, Casey beaming at him.

“Missed you too, fucker,” Casey replied, his hands reaching down to fumble with my son’s belt. “And especially this.”

There was no mistaking the sounds of a belt being unbuckled, a fly being unzipped. Suddenly they seemed as loud as hell, in the quiet stillness of the house. Suddenly I found my breath shortening, my pulse picking up, and I wondered if they could hear me too.

But I guess not, because Casey’s hands didn’t stop working, as the two of them fell back into a deep, tongue-heavy kiss, and Eric’s jeans started to slip down. He had on a pair of boxer briefs, and all of a sudden I noticed how much thicker his thighs were, how hard and rounded and tight his ass was. I’d always known he’d be a good-looking guy, with a good build on him that I was proud to say he’d inherited from me. But I hadn’t really seen him stripped down since he was a teenager, and definitely not in this kind of context. I couldn’t help but admire his form, his shape, the payoff from all the years of playing baseball and soccer in school, and undoubtedly from the gym on campus now. Young guys these days were all about their bodies, in ways we hadn’t really been back when I was his age. In Eric’s case, he had plenty to be proud of, and in a weird way, that made me proud too.

“Mmmm, yeah,” he murmured, deep and soft, his voice all man now, a tone I’d never heard before from him. He smiled down at his best bud as Casey dropped to his knees and tugged at the front of his boxer briefs, and even though the way their bodies were oriented hid the full sight from me, the way my son sighed, dropped his head back a little and reached for Casey’s dark hair told me exactly what was going on. As if to prove it, I started to hear wetter sounds, quietly muffled murmurs – the sounds of sucking cock.

I guess Casey was good at sucking dick, from the way my son moaned and stroked his hair, to the muffled murmurs coming from his best friend. That realization – the goofy, happy-go-lucky kid who’d been like my son’s shadow for years liked to suck cock, and liked to suck my son’s cock in particular – hit me in the guts. In a way, it was alike a double-punch – the full realization that not only was Casey a grown-up guy now, a sexual creature, but more than that, my son was too. A guy accustomed to getting his cock sucked, and by another guy, no less – holy shit. It was a lot to process, but even as my brain was on fire trying to do just that, I could feel the unmistakable stirrings of my cock in my sleep pants.

What the fuck, Mike! I thought to myself. Shit, maybe I was just horny – just because I was single, didn’t necessarily mean I was getting laid all that much. That part of being newly divorced was still a work in progress. Hell, the last time I’d gotten my cock sucked had been, shit – almost a year ago, maybe? That didn’t make any of this right, though – but it didn’t make me move, either. Didn’t make me close the door. Didn’t make me stop watching.

“Shit, easy there, bro,” Eric muttered, reaching down to take Casey’s face in his hands, guiding him up off his cock with a slurp and a grunt from them both. “Been too long. I wanna do some more with ya.”

Jesus, those words, and coming from my son… it was one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard. Coupled with one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen, as Eric tugged his T-shirt up and off, and pulled his best friend up to kiss him some more. It wasn’t some outrageous porn move or anything, just a graceful, easy maneuver from a well-built young guy, but powerfully sensual all the same. Even more so as Eric pushed his buddy’s jeans down, revealing Casey’s well-muscled soccer player’s thighs, trimmed with dark fur that was weirdly surprising to see. Almost as surprising as the big stretch of hard cock in his own boxer briefs, my son’s boyhood buddy definitely all man now in all kinds of visible ways. I watched Eric reach down to palm his buddy’s big young bulge as they kissed, making Casey grunt into his mouth and push up against him more as he stepped out of his jeans, and my cock ached for that kind of contact more than ever before.

Eric helped peel Casey’s T-shirt off, and the spray of dark fur across the kid’s well-muscled chest just added another layer of surprise. The last time I’d seen him shirtless had been at the lake three summers ago, and there hadn’t been a trace of chest hair on him – not that I was looking, necessarily. But I sure was looking now, watching my son lean down and press his lips to those solid, flat squares of chest muscle, kissing his way over the fur and skin to each of Casey’s dark nipples. Shit, if Casey’s eyes hadn’t been closed with pleasure, if he’d opened them and looked over the top of my son’s head, he’d probably see me, standing beside my half-closed bedroom door, my cock tenting my sleep pants. This was fucking dangerous, and I felt a little sizzle of a thrill run through me, twinned with my nerves. But my son and his buddy were completely in their own world, a place where just the two of them existed. Everything and everyone else didn’t seem to matter to them, right now.

“Big fuckin’ cock, bro,” Eric murmured when he came back up, grinning at his friend, his hand caressing the hardness in Casey’s shorts, then tugging at the fabric. Pulling them down, revealing a thick, dark tangle of fur. Reaching inside as Casey bit his lip and gazed at him, something a lot like love in his eyes. His eyes closed again and his grin widened as my son reached inside his shorts, the muscles of his forearm shifting and flexing as he stroked along the length of his best bud’s hard cock and watched his reaction.

Your kid’s a stud, I thought, and felt that weird surge of pride in him again.

I couldn’t help but admire the confident, easy way Eric maneuvered his buddy, pushing him back on the bed with a kind of friendly assertiveness, laying him flat out on his back and stripping his shorts off, tossing them on the floor. Then he crouched down, the muscles of my son’s ass flexing inside his underwear, and even though his head and shoulders blocked the view, I could tell he was reaching for his buddy’s cock, reaching to take hold of it, and lick it, and then Casey’s deep moan and the way his hand sank into my son’s hair told me that my boy was sucking cock too. Holy fucking shit.

Just like when Casey sucked him, my view of the action was obscured, and somehow, that made the slow-building sucking wet sounds even lewder. But it meant Casey couldn’t see me either – couldn’t see his best bud’s father watching them at play, see my hand squeezing my own hard bulge, as I watched and admired their closeness, and wrestled with the notion that my pride and joy was sucking cock, and enjoying it, and good at it.

What the fuck are you doing, Mike, I thought to myself, then immediately dismissed it as Casey’s husky grunts and moans built a little, as his athletic thighs flexed and writhed on the bedspread. But I shuffled back, hiding more of my body behind the door as I continued to watch, which made the whole thing even more perverse, and wrong. And hot, hot as fuck. I couldn’t deny that, and if I tried, my own hard cock was there to make a liar out of me.

Eric rose up from between Casey’s thighs, and I couldn’t help but notice the muscles articulating in his back, the breadth of his shoulders and lats, the shift of his ass in the tight stretchy material of his boxer briefs. He crawled up over his prone buddy’s body, and the sounds of deep, wet, grunting kisses echoed clear across the hall again.

“Can I taste you, bro?” I could just make out him murmuring, along with Casey’s husky, whispered, “Yeah…” And then my son was sinking down between his buddy’s legs, pushing them up, the size of them almost seeming to double as Eric pushed them back, and I had to stifle a groan of surprise as Eric leaned into Casey’s ass and kissed him there. A groan of surprise, and yeah, lust beneath that, as my boy set to work eating his buddy’s hole.

I reached down to squeeze my throbbing cock again, leaving it there, slowly handling myself as I watched. Again, I couldn’t see the detail, the back of my son’s head obscuring the sight of what he was doing, but the wet, lusty sounds, the growls and Casey’s moans as he writhed on the bed, told me exactly what was going on. Christ, I hadn’t had my ass eaten in literally decades, not since a particularly liberated girl had treated me to a damn unforgettable ride my junior year of college, after one of the frat parties.

Well, there was that one pledge who blew you and Stevie Cutrone… I thought, and immediately pushed that whole thing out of my mind, and tried to focus on what was unfolding before my eyes.

“I been thinking about this ever since summer,” Eric said, his voice thick with spit, as he rose up again from between Casey’s thighs, patting his hip. “C’mon, roll over. Let me really get in there, dude.”

Casey rolled over, Eric’s hand guiding him, and damn, the kid had an ass on him. They both did, but Casey wasn’t my son, and his was the naked one, so I could see the shape and curve and shift of his glutes, the dark fur on the creamy skin, the way they shifted and flexed as he arched his back…

You watched this kid grow up, Mike, I thought, and fuck, I didn’t need to be thinking that way. He was all grown up now, for sure, no matter what, and maybe that took some of the edge off. Some, but not all, for sure, as I stood there, leaking precum into my boxers, watching the lewd display of hot, youthful sex happening before me.

I got distracted from that view as Eric stood up, and the way he stood, I could just see the tip of his hard cock around the edge of his hip, standing out proud, the head even gleaming a little in the low light coming from overhead. I watched as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs and shucked them the rest of the way down, the side of his ass dimpling deep as he bent over slightly to push them down his long, hard quads, past his muscular calves. His eyes stayed locked on Casey’s ass, watching his glutes shift as his best bud seemed to put on a little show for him, clenching his handsome soccer player’s rump, arching his back, inviting him in. 

Eric let out a lusty little grunt and stepped forward, tossing his boxer briefs on the floor as he planted one knee on the side of the bed and ran his hands up the backs of Casey’s thighs, leaning in as he moved closer, as his hands caressed up to those muscled young mounds and spread them open. This time, I could see my son as he leaned in and started to kiss his best buddy’s hole, started to make out with it, started to eat him out like a pro. It was all I could do not to moan out loud, even as the voice in my head screamed at me to turn away, to stop this insanity right now, to be the father I was supposed to be and put an end to this fucked-up perversity altogether.

I’d encouraged my son to make himself at home, to carve out a space here where he could be at ease and be himself, but this was taking things too far. Or… was it? He was a healthy young man with a healthy sexual appetite, who clearly knew what he was doing, with somebody he and I both trusted. They were being safe. Really, where was the harm?

Yes, but you’re watching him, I thought to myself. But maybe, in some weird way, Eric wanted me to see all this. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t closed the door behind them, before they fell into each other like this. When he knew my door was open too. Maybe he wanted me to see how comfortable he was here in my new home. Maybe he wanted me to see the man he’d become.

Whether or not he’d intended to show me, I was sure seeing it now, as he buried his handsome face between Casey’s handsome cheeks and ate him out. My mind flashed back to that pledge twenty-some years ago, and Stevie Cutrone’s long baseball player’s legs upturned on his bed across from mine as the pledge ate him out while I lazily fisted my sticky cock and watched them from my bed. That kid was good, but I was willing to wager my boy was better – Christ, what a fucked-up thing to think, but still. The way Casey had the covers bunched up in his fists, the muscles in his arms bulging as he grunted, then moaned, growing progressively louder over the lewd noises of my son devouring his hole, told me just how good at this my son was. I wondered how long they’d been doing it. Wondered how many times they’d been doing this, and more, upstairs in Eric’s room while my wife and I were oblivious. How many times they’d made each other cum under my roof, before tonight.

Eric ran his hand up Casey’s spine to rub the back of his head almost tenderly as he continued to devour his hole, Casey’s ass flexing as he bucked it back against my boy’s buried face, and Eric growled in response to Casey’s husky, deep-chested moan of pure pleasure. They went on like this for several long minutes, as I watched and squeezed my throbbing cock the whole time, spurting more and more precum into my boxers, watching my son’s body at work, pleasuring his best buddy with skill and the easy familiarity of long experience.

I guess Eric hit a particular spot inside Casey especially well, because Casey’s muscles flexed all over, bucking his athletic young ass back even harder, arching his back as he moaned out, “Ahhhh brooooo…” Eric came up out of his ass trench, chuckling as he draped his body over his buddy’s, nuzzling into his ear.

“Shhhhhh, bro,” he murmured. “Dad’s right across the hall, don’t forget.”

My heart pounded doubletime at that, and I nearly slipped fully behind my door, but then Eric moved again, planting his hands either side of Casey’s shoulders and pushing up athletically onto his knees. I watched him reach to the end of the bed, obscured by the angle and his part-closed door, hearing the sound of a zipper. His backpack, I guessed, hearing him root around in it for a moment, and then his hand came back into view. He dropped a little bottle and a foil package onto the covers beside Casey’s hip. Lube and a rubber. Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

He leaned back in, planted a kiss between Casey’s shoulder blades, then more of them up to the back of his neck. My son, the lover, and I got that weird, perverse feeling of pride again. He kissed his way up to Casey’s ear and began murmuring to him, nothing but the low, warm, buzzing sound of it carrying across the hallway to me. I was intensely curious about what he was saying to his best buddy in this moment, as he reached down for the lube and flipped the cap off it with practiced ease, bringing the bottle down to squirt a clear stream of it into Casey’s furry young cleft. Casey’s body never stopped moving, but the writhing as Eric reached down to work the lube in. From Casey’s moans and the arch of his back, I knew my son was pushing slick fingers inside of him, lubing up his hole. Maybe the most intimate thing one man can do to another, and again I flashed back to that pledge on that fall night when I was barely older than Eric. The way he grunted and moaned as Stevie worked his lubed fingers inside his hole, while I watched and stroked and tried not to cum, as I waited my turn.

Eric spent a good couple minutes just working his buddy’s hole over, murmuring to him in that low, warm tone, his words dissolving into indistinct sound as it carried from his bedroom, through his open door, across the hallway, and into mine. Then he pressed another slow kiss to the back of his neck and pushed up again. This time when he stood, he was turned in almost complete profile to me, and for the first time, I really saw my son. Saw his tight-muscled young man’s frame, the profile shape of his pecs, the muscles of his hips and thighs and ass, and most of all, the hard, wet-tipped curve of his cock.

Christ, he got it all from you, I thought, stunned and proud in equal measure, admiring the big, handsome heft of my son’s erect cock. It was a damn fine-looking dick, even I could admit that – hell, he might have even been packing a little more than I was, and I definitely have nothing to be ashamed of there. I watched him reach for the rubber on the bed, tearing the package open with his teeth, extracting it, and then slowly rolling it down the long, hard arc of his big young dick, and no matter how weird and conflicted I felt about everything else right now, I couldn’t help but admire what a stud my boy was. He wasn’t one of those big, musclebound, body-obsessed guys like a lot of young dudes seemed to be these days – just a handsome, fit, boy-next-door type, who happened to be packing a damn fine cock, and evidently had the skills to treat his lovers right with it.

I was all caught up in another weird moment of deep paternal pride and admiration – OK, I was staring at his cock as he smoothly skinned the rubber down its length, with practiced ease – so I nearly missed it. He got himself sheathed, then ran his hand over his length, giving a small smile of satisfaction as he looked down at it. Then he happened to look to his right, through his door, across the hall, to my door. And saw me, his father, staring at him.

My eyes flicked up just as he saw me, and our gazes met. Fuck. The moment felt eternal. I know that whole thing about time standing still is a

cliché, but right then, my naked son standing there hard-cocked, freshly rubbered-up, his best buddy sprawled out naked on his bed, and me not more than six or eight feet away, watching him, my cock big and hard and obvious in my flannel sleep pants – it felt like there was no time anymore. Just me and Eric, a father and his son, standing there on some kind of precipice.

My mouth was suddenly dry, my pulse jackhammering away, a cold sweat prickling between my shoulder blades. I could feel the burn of the blush on my face, spreading down my neck, down to the top of my chest. Christ knows how I looked to him, right then. We’d always had a respectful, but close bond, me and Eric, a pretty traditional father-son hierarchical kind of thing. But now, I felt all my fatherly authority draining away, fast. I’d violated… shit, just about every rule there was, really. 

But if he wanted to protect his privacy… he would have closed his door, I couldn’t help but think. No matter what else, there was that. Maybe… just maybe… he wanted me to see him like this.

His gaze was almost inscrutable. Not hostile, at least, but still, unreadable, and it made my guts and my brain churn even more, while I tried to figure out if I should say something, do something, maybe just close my fucking bedroom door…

Late for that, Mike, I thought. Way too late. You bought this ticket already.

And then, slowly, Eric smiled. Just a little turn-up at the corner of his mouth, but he stood up a little straighter, hand still cradling the heft of his big, hard young cock, and his smile spread. A quiet smile, the one he tended to get when he’d accomplished something, and was pleased with himself, but didn’t want to make a big show of it. It’s the kind of kid he’d always been. I couldn’t smile back, but a little of the knot in my guts eased, as he stood up, his shoulders straight, chest out a little, justifiably proud of himself and how he looked, proud of how I was seeing him. He gave me a little nod, so slight that anybody else would have missed it, and I flashed back to a moment when he was 15, standing at the plate of his high school baseball field, having just absolutely socked the ball out of the park. He’d turned and found me in the stands, standing up and applauding him, and given me that exact same kind of nod. Small, subtle, not at all show-offy. Just an acknowledgement, from father to son, that he’d done something awesome, and we both knew it.

I don’t know why, but that little nod know nearly undid me altogether. Even more so when he looked back down to his sheathed cock, then picked up the lube bottle and loosed a stream of the stuff all over his piece. He stroked his hand along his length, smearing the lube all over himself, making his big young cock gleam even more, and looked over at me again. Smiled. Nodded.

This time, I found myself nodding back at him, one small down-up tilt of the head, a father proud of his son. Approving. Encouraging, even. And then I watched him turn back to his best friend, and go to work.

Eric didn’t rush things – he hadn’t rushed any of it up to this point anyway, but now that he knew I was watching, he seemed even more intent on demonstrating his prowess. Hell, I barely had the hang of it when I was 19, but I was getting pretty good at fucking by that age. But Eric was there already, climbing up onto his bed, helping Casey adjust his hips, pressing a kiss to his buddy’s shoulders as he took his slicked-up cock in his hand, and aimed for his target. I couldn’t help but notice how he shifted Casey’s hips around, turning his body more so I could see my son’s work. Or maybe I was imagining that. I had no fucking idea – all I knew was that I was even harder than ever, erect and awestruck and now more eager than ever to see the lover my son had become.

Casey’s head tilted back and his body squirmed slowly, letting out a low, soft moan as my son sank into him, slowly but steadily, sure of himself in his quiet, almost professional way.

“Yeah buddy,” Eric murmured quietly, almost softly to his buddy. “So fucking good, bro.”

My son slowly sank his cock inside of his best friend, taking his time with it, giving little loosening thrusts back and forth along the way, his handsome young ass dimpling as it flexed and thrust. Casey let out a stream of quiet grunts and moans and murmurs, pushing his ass back up to meet Eric’s hips, until my son was fully embedded inside of him. Then Eric draped himself over Casey’s back and kissed the side of his neck.

“You got all of me, buddy,” he almost crooned to him, kissing the side of his neck. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Casey whimpered a soft uh-huh back to him, and I watched my son as smiled at his best friend, and began to fuck him.

I had no idea how long they’d been doing this, or how often, but either way, they were both good at it. Perfectly in tune with each other, two fit young men who enjoyed the act, and enjoyed it together. They were smooth, working in sync, with the kind of ease you only really get with experience together. Casey was no passive participant, arching his back, fucking himself back on Eric’s big cock as they warmed up and got deeper into it together, Eric’s ass and thighs and hips a smooth flow of muscle, in command of his body and his cock and his buddy’s pleasure. It could have been a performance for my benefit – at least on Eric’s part, Casey still hadn’t seen me – but it seemed natural, familiar, attuned. Lately, I’d kind of gotten into those porn sites that did both gay and straight sex, hot young college-aged dudes fucking girls who were clearly strippers or hookers. Some of those hot-bodied young guys could throw one hell of a fuck, but right here, in my own home, I was being treated to a show that blew any of them out of the water. All courtesy of my one and only son.

Eric fucked fast, then slow and deep, switching it up, corkscrewing his hips, really giving Casey a serious ride, full of complexity and shifting pace and angles. It was worthy of porn – hell, almost too good for porn, but I probably would have paid a monthly fee to watch it over and over again. At some point, my hand found its way inside my flannel pants, caressing the hardness of my cock, straining at the cotton of my boxer shorts. I undid the fly of my shorts to let my guy out, stifling a grunt as I felt the hot, precum-slicked throb of my Dad cock as I admired my son’s performance.

Right as I was wrist deep in my pants, my bush half on display, starting to stroke the full length of my cock, unable to stop myself, Eric looked over his shoulder at me. His forehead was glowing with a mist of sweat, his cheeks flushed with color, and Jesus Christ, he’d never been handsomer. He looked down at the big, obvious shape of my hand in my pants, stroking myself, smiled that little smile at me again, and quietly nodded his head. I nodded back again, and he grinned a little wider and set to work fucking the living daylights out of Casey. Now I couldn’t stop myself from hauling my cock completely out of my pants and stroking myself in earnest.

“Fuck, so good, buddy,” Eric growled, sounding all man as he grunted and continued his fast, deep pace, sawing his handsome length in and out of Casey’s tight hole.

“Dude, fuck, yeah,” Casey whimpered back. “Fuck me, bro.”

Eric growled, sank full-length into Casey, then held it there as he draped himself back over his friend, tilting his head back to kiss him. I listened to them moan and the sound of their lips smacking, and then Eric reared back up, took firm hold of Casey’s trim hips, and got right back to fucking him like a pro.

I don’t know how long they went on, we were in a space that felt completely outside of time at that point, but I could feel my load building up in my balls, and I knew at their age, as enthusiastically as they were going at it together, there was no way they could keep it up forever. Sure enough, as the sound of Eric’s hips slapping against Casey’s ass began to really echo around his room, across the hall, enveloping me in the flesh-on-flesh sound of pure fucking, Eric spoke up.

“Gettin’ close, bro,” he grunted, his voice thick with lust and the cum he was ready to unleash. “You ready to cum with me, Case?”

“Fuck, yeah dude,” Casey moaned back at him. “Gonna make me fuckin’ cum…”

Eric let go of his right hip and reached around and under him, letting out a hot little growl of approval as he stroked his buddy’s cock, his bis and tris flexing.

“Fuck yeah, you’re ready,” he said, sounding pleased. He looked back over his shoulder at me, his eyes boring into mine, something hot and invisible and electric in the air between us. Kept his eyes on mine as his hips thrust and thrust, his whole body aglow with sweat, his muscles pumped and primed under the sheen of it.

“Here I come, dude,” he growled, eyes steady and lusty on mine. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

Eric’s nostrils flared, his muscles flexed all over, and he gave one last hard, deep thrust of his hips as he planted his full length inside of his best friend. I could see his balls dancing between his thighs, big and full and tight with hot young cum, bouncing as he grunted all deep and guttural and animal, and unloaded inside Casey. Then almost in sync, Casey let out an animal series of grunts of his own, and I swore I could hear the jets of his cum splattering across the covers beneath him, as my son both jacked and fucked the load out of him.

Holy shit, I had to pinch the head of my cock to keep from spraying my own load across the hallway floor. Eric never broke eye contact with me as his chest heaved and his balls churned. He just gave me another little nod, watching me struggle mightily not to let my cum fire off. 

My son was still every bit the accomplished lover in their afterglow, draping himself over Casey’s sweaty back to kiss his neck, rubbing his flanks, murmuring low, indistinct words to him, his buddy murmuring right back. Slowly, Eric extracted his cocklength, still hard, shiny with lube, the tip of the rubber sagging heavy with his fresh young load, leaving Casey’s hole to gape before slowly squeezing closed. He climbed up onto the bed at Casey’s side, his buddy turning to him to kiss him. Even in the wild haze I was in, having seen what he’d seen, I knew Casey had a good chance of seeing me if he rolled too far onto his side, so I ducked back behind my door as quickly and quietly as I could, listening to the sounds of their kisses and murmurs from the other side. 

After a few minutes, I heard them shuffling around, chuckling low, murmuring some more, then the sound of their bodies shifting on the bed, feet hitting the floor. As quietly as I could, I sat down on the side of my bed, suddenly feeling a little bit in shock at everything that had transpired. Shocked, and with my hard cock still arced up towards my stomach, poking me there insistently. I could tell the two boys were trying to be quiet as their feet padded softly out into the hall, heading for the bathroom.

“Dude, fuck,” I heard Casey whisper, just on the other side of my half-closed door. “What if your Dad…”

“Don’t worry, bro,” Eric whispered back. “He was zonked when we came up, I checked. We’re cool. Bathroom’s down there on the right, I’ll see you there in a minute.”

One set of footsteps padded quietly down the hall to the main bathroom, and I heard the door click closed, the water starting to run. After a long pause, my bedroom door edged quietly open, and Eric’s head appeared around the side of it. I had no idea what to say, but I guess my still-hard cock said all there was to be said, in the moment.

Eric looked over his shoulder, down the hall, and stepped fully into my bedroom. Christ, he looked magnificent, his big cock just starting to soften, the glow of a fresh fuck all over him, his muscles still pumped from it. But it was the way he smiled at me that made all the difference. The smile I remembered from his home runs, from his walk across the stage at graduation, from passing his driving test – a smile of achievement, and pride in himself. And in some ways, a smile of thanks to me, too, for helping him reach all those milestones.

“How was I, Dad?” he asked, voice low.

“Christ, son,” I muttered, unable to think of anything else.

“I didn’t mean to, uh… impose on you like that,” he said, eyes still on mine, still stepping in close. Almost stepping between my spread knees, as he worked the spent and filled rubber slowly down the shiny, sticky length of his cock. “We just, y’know, got in the zone, and kinda went with it, I guess…”

He was looking at me almost expectantly now, and weirdly, I felt all the weight and responsibility of being a father right then. The knowledge that every word matters, sometimes. I swallowed hard, and looked up at him as levelly as I could.

“I told you, son,” I said quietly. “This is your home too. I want you to be comfortable here.”

Eric’s smile twitched a little wider at that, at the man-to-man kind of confidence between us right then, unlike any we’d had before.

“And for the record,” I went on, “that was one hell of a fuck, son.”

“Yeah, Dad?” he said, his voice low and deep and with a lusty kind of edge to it.

“Yeah, son,” I finished. “You did me proud, buddy.”

He just grinned at that, looked down at my still-hard cock, and nodded. Slowly peeled the rubber the rest of the way off, with the reflexive ease of a guy who’d done it a lot in his young life already. Stood there for a second, the full rubber in his hand, like he was thinking.

“Maybe some time, you can show me how you do it too, Dad,” he murmured to me, eyes intent on mine, then handed me the condom. Reflexively, I took it, not even knowing I was doing it until the slick, warm rubber was between my fingers, hanging heavy with my son’s big load. Right in that moment, that electric moment between me and my son, I knew I wanted to do exactly that, and soon.

“Maybe I can, son,” I heard myself saying. “Maybe I can.”

“Good,” he nodded. Down the hall, we heard the sound of the toilet flushing.

“I gotta go see how Case is doing,” he said, the spell somewhat broken for now. He nodded down at my cock, which was just starting to soften a little before he handed me his rubber. Now it was back to full hardness again.

“I wish I could stay to see you cum, Dad,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow, after Case has gone…”

I swallowed hard, and instinctively reached for my hardness, as he nodded at me. I gave him another little nod back, man to man, father to son. That was all that needed to be said.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad,” he murmured. He stepped back out into the hall, quietly tugging my door back almost closed again, and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

It killed me to wait, my hand maintenance-stroking my cock, strumming on it as quietly as I could, until the boys headed back to Eric’s bed, the door clicking closed behind them. I looked at the tied-off rubber cradled in my left hand, full of my son’s cum, sticky with the lube he’d used to fuck his best buddy’s ass in front of me. Heard his last words in my head as my hand found the hardness of my cock and wrapped firmly around it, starting to stroke.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad…

In less than a minute, as I stifled my grunts, my load was pasting my T-shirt, as I started to imagine all the possibilities that lay ahead for my son and me over the next few weeks he was home.

More stories like this at https://talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/tagged/story+time

Find more of the 12 Tales of Christmas here.

br0b8:

From an early age Dad taught us the importance of physical fitness. We helped him install a gym in our basement and as we got older we began to spend all of our spare time down there. It was awesome to reach Dad’s level and then surpass it. He took a lot of pride in us and the way our bodies were developing.

When the time was right, Dad taught us something equally important – the fun of having sex within the family. Truth be told, my brother and I had been trading handjobs and blowjobs for years – Dad told us he knew that, and that he’d done the same thing with our uncle when he was our age. He said there was still a lot we could learn, so started following our lifting sessions with some in-family male bonding.

We’d installed a shower down there too so we’d take our time getting each other clean, soaping up each other’s bodies, appreciating what each of us was achieving. To get to suck Dad’s cock was awesome – this was the thing that had made us, after all. My brother and I developed a real hunger for his cum – most sessions ended up with us both on our knees in front of our dad, taking turns sucking his huge cock, eager to be the one who got the first shot in his mouth. Dad liked to pull out and shoot all over our faces. Then we’d lick it off of each other, often sharing it with Dad who liked cum as much as we did.

He taught us about fucking, too – first how to fuck him, then how to get fucked. Fucking Dad was just amazing, to slide it into his muscle butt and pound away until we came. Dad had us try it both with and without condoms – he said it was important that we be able to hold off and make it last. Honestly I never was able to last very long in Dad’s ass once the condom came off. He let us shoot it inside him, said we might as well enjoy it since if we did it to our girlfriends they might get pregnant. That was just one of the benefits of doing it with family – we didn’t have to worry about any of that stuff. Except for Mom finding out – Dad was pretty clear that she wouldn’t approve and that this would have to be our secret.

I was surprised to find out how much I loved getting fucked. Part of it was that it was Dad fucking me – fucking me the same way he’d fucked Mom to make me. It got to where I couldn’t get enough of it, the way his big cock stretched me out, how he’d lose control and slap my ass and shove his tongue in my mouth when his nuts would unload inside me. My brother and I were fucking each other like crazy; sometimes we’d stay up all night sticking it in each other, trading off, pumping as many loads into each other as we could. Dad said it was all good, that we were young and full of cum and we might as well get as much practice as we wanted. That was a lesson we took to heart. 

by Natty Soltesz

br0b8:

My buddy Jamie is constantly bragging about what a great ass he’s got. He’s always mooning us, pulling down his shorts at every opportunity and shoving it in our faces. Apparently he got voted as having the best butt in his high school class by some unofficial vote of girls.

I never thought there was anything strange about the way he’s always exposing his ass and talking about it and everything. I’ve known Jamie for a while and he’s just like that, kinda crazy and doesn’t give a shit. Then one day we were hanging out at my place and he was just walking around with his shorts totally pulled down and his ass hanging out, like, the whole time. And I was laughing about it but there was something more there, I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. 

He started asking me all these questions about it. “You think it’s nice, don’t you? Have you ever seen a better ass?”

I said, “Yeah, it’s a nice ass.” He got this really smug, proud look.

“You’d fuck it, wouldn’t you?” he said.

“I don’t know about that,” I said, but it did make my cock jump a little.

“Aw, c’mon,” he said, with that smirk on his face so I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Look at it.” He bent over the bed and I got behind him, just going along with it. “I shaved my asshole yesterday. Tell me you wouldn’t want to slide your cock in that.”

I couldn’t believe he was talking like that but it was honestly turning me on. 

“Maybe I would,” I said.

“Would you lick it?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said, laughing. I was really close to his butt now and he was still just bent over, inviting me to examine it. It smelled clean like soap but also kind of musky – not bad, just different.

“Try it,” he said. “Eat it like a pussy. It’s sweet ass, you know it’s sweet.” I put out my tongue. I touched it to his hole. He moaned and pushed back against my face and I dug my tongue in deeper. “Fuuuuck,” he said, moaning, and just like that we were doing it. I was eating his ass and getting ready to slide my cock in it and wondering if this was what he’d been wanting all along. 

by Natty Soltesz

br0b8:

I honestly might not have went with Aaron to his family’s cabin for that week if I’d known his dad Paul was a total fucking stud. As it was I couldn’t keep my eyes off the guy – I mean he wasn’t just “kinda sexy for an older guy,” he was full-on fucking HOT and Aaron seemed completely oblivious to it. The whole family did, actually, and almost all week Paul and Carol (Aaron’s mom) bickered and fought. It was pretty uncomfortable so I tried to stay out of things, but it only made me want him more. He seemed criminally underappreciated, and as the week went on I started to get the sense that he was noticing me too. I’m no slouch, I work out everyday and have no problem getting girls or guys. So I started showing off a little, just in subtle ways – wrapping myself in a towel when I got out of the shower and making sure I passed him in the kitchen, letting my shorts ride up my thighs when I was laying back on the couch reading and he was next to me on the easy chair. I definitely caught him looking, that time. 

Then Friday morning I woke up early. He was out on the deck having coffee so I joined him. The rest of the family were asleep. We were looking out on the lake and talking about how nice the weather was looking that day and that it’d be a good day to take the boat out. He said “Maybe we should take it out right now?” I said “Sure” and we fired it up and headed out onto the water. There was already this erotic charge between us and we weren’t talking much, and the sun was getting hotter so we both took our shirts off. Finally we were out in the middle of the lake and he cut the engine and said “Let’s just drift for a while.” And we talked about how peaceful it was out here this early when nobody else was around. He was reclining on the seat and I was across from him with my feet up on the side of the boat and I could see his thick cock in his shorts. He caught me looking and he just smiled. “You could really do anything out here and nobody would be the wiser,” he said, and both of our cocks were swelling. He put his feet up next to mine and they were touching a little. We just sat there like that for a while, casually playing footsie, letting our cocks getting completely hard but neither of us making a move, just letting it happen as we drifted lazily along the surface of the lake…

One of the erotic authors who really inspired me to try my hand at it is @nattysoltesz. His work covers a lot of the territory that arouses and inspires me – you can find his earlier stuff listed under bacteriaburger on the Nifty Archive – and he puts out some excellent vignettes on his photo+caption site @br0b8. Follow him, buy his books, and enjoy a selection of his work, featured here in Recommended Reading.

pagespermer:

a4f101:

“Fuck, nice ass…” he thought to himself

CONTINUED ….

In all of his years of coaching, he’d never once – not once – made a move on one of his kids. In his own mind he was always hands off, even though he often chubbed up, as his imagination wandered over their innocent youth. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t into ‘that kind of thing’ with young men that … well, that didn’t quite have agency over their intimate decisions.

But Andrew was different. Andrew seemed older than his age. More importantly, Andrew had agency: in the gym and in the classroom. The kids naturally followed his leadership, and his leadership included an almost fawning worship of Coach Jim. The vibe in the locker room and on the team had become downright dangerous, with near constant ass-slapping and ‘bro-hugs’ most of which lingered too long. 

And rather than fight against it – stand up for ‘appropriate community standards’ – the Coach allowed himself to be sucked in, flailing his cock nightly as images of young men in orgiastic phallic worship flooded his brain. His balls were regularly on fire during the school day and it seemed to him that everywhere he turned in the school, Andrew conveniently appeared, smile bright and eager, tight shirt showing just a hue of sweat under his arms.

“Coach – hey coach,” Andrew said, standing over him. 

“Huh,” he replied, covering his growing erection, surprised by the intrusion.

“Weights put away. Anything else?”

Andrew stood just far enough away to be appropriate – just close enough to allow his post practice, post-work-out funk to waft in the Coach’s direction. The kid rearranged himself – as they all seemed to do these days – but given that they were alone, the gesture seemed ….. suggestive.

“Naw – naw kid. Hit the showers,” he said, standing, turning and focusing on the white-board, which had to be updated with tomorrow’s exercise.

“Cool,” the young man said, heading out of the gym. But, as he exited to the locker room he turned, pulling off his sweat-soaked shirt.

“You gonna join me Coach?” he asked. The question was seemingly innocent, but there was a depth of suggestion that was surprising. Shocking even. They stood, looking at one another, roles reversed: the adult, dumbfounded, speechless, the kid asserting himself in ways he shouldn’t.

Then he turned and headed to the showers.

Jim knew he had choices. Knew he had agency. Knew he could have walked away – or, even, sat the kid down and told him to cut it out. He could have had a nice long Man-Talk, that would include n admonition and a stern warning that he would ‘call Andrew’s mother to express his concerns’ about his behavior.

Jim knew all this, but as he stood, running through every appropriate option, the only conceivable outcome was the one he’d been dreaming about for the last hour, as his eye’s danced on the young man’s truly exceptional ass.

It was probably the virginity – or the possibility of it – that pushed him over the edge. A kid like this, he thought, if he hadn’t been done already, would surely be done soon. He saw no reason to allow some other man – some stranger – some lascivious monster at the church, or creepy fat-ass down at the truck-stop – to be the first man to score in such a remarkable young ass. Such an obviously hungry fuck-hole. 

And it was. The kid had a fuck-hole. The kid KNEW he had a fuck-hole. He absolutely dripped sex, teasing his friends, opening doors that the other adolescents gladly stepped through, allowing their puberty-driven urges to run rampant. He’d never seen so many hard-ons in the locker-room, since Little Andrew had changed schools and entered their ranks. More than that – he’d never seen the utter lack of shame exhibited by the young men as they strutted, erect cocks bouncing, grabbing, comparing, testosterone running wild. He’d had to spend excessive time in the showers, just to make sure that the kids didn’t erupt into circle-jerks or, worse, run train on each other, back in the dark corners … .

And of course, this only fueled his inappropriate lust…

It was in one of those dark corners, back in the recesses of the showers, each of which pumped scalding hot water, producing billows of steam, that he found Andrew … Little Andy … . chest against the wall, fingers strumming his hole, soaping and cleaning himself out, waiting for his Coach.

The image was lewd and electrifying. Coach Jim didn’t quite know how he’d gotten here – didn’t quite know how he’d lost his work-out gear – didn’t quite know how, after three orgasms today already, his cock throbbed like a rocket, ready to violate his student. Didn’t know how after years of studied resistance, he’s so easily crossed the line that could destroy his career. His life. 

And he didn’t care. 

The boy looked back, face red and wet, eyes blinking in the steam.

“I want you to be the first, Coach,” he said, lust dripping from his red lips. “It’s all I can think about. Please.”

The older man stepped forward, grabbing his cock, which drooled in the misty heat.

“It’s gonna hurt,” is all he said, eyes targeting the impossibly small hole that blinked through the soap.

“I know,” the young man said, portraying a confidence that was obviously an act. Coach Jim could smell the fear. It only made his arousal more intense. Animal.

He pushed up behind the boy, reaching out to calm him, stroke him, then stroke his face, and the boy responded, pushing up and back. But the gesture was less about caring and more about career, because as his cock-head found purchase in the boy’s slot, he reached his other hand around and covered the kid’s mouth, tightly gripping his face, so that the scream, if there was one, would be muffled in the acoustically vibrant shower. The boy tensed, realizing the gesture was a prelude, but as he did, Coach Jim pushed forward, breaching the teen virginity, planting his flag defiantly before any other explorer that would follow. (And there would be many. He knew that. Knowing it made being first that much more sweet.)

The kid jumped, and there was a scream, which was choked by the Coach’s muscled other arm, which wrapped expertly around the throat of his willing victim. 

“Breathe, Andy. Deep, deep breathes. You want this. Now you gotta learn how to take it.”

And just as the boy gasped, Coach Jim pushed forward, getting most of the way in, nearly slipping on the slick floor as the kid flailed, unable to halt his body’s fight-or-flight reaction. 

But by now it was all over. Consumed by lust and an overpowering need, the Coach pushed up against the boy, driving him into the wall, owning the last one-point-five inches of the boy’s new sex-organ, and beginning to fuck him sooner than any virgin should be fucked, after such a quick and brutal entry. But it was all over for Andy, too, being exactly what he’d imagined and so much more, as the hairy chest scraped his hairless back, as the large paws man-handled him, as the big cock consumed his lower half, controlling him. The pain edged just for a moment, and on the outer edges of his searing nightmare he felt the powerful surging of youth-lust, waiting to overwhelm him. He reached out for it, widening his stance, barging through his pain, impatient with it. He needed this – wanted it – had been wanting it for years, even before he could understand the desires. His Coach read the gesture as any fuck-horse would, and used it to gain deeper access, become more selfish in his violation. He pulled out and pushed back in, hard, and the boy jerked, head banging against the tile. But the pleasure got closer and the need greater. Soon the Coach was fucking him, almost mercilessly, because Andrew had unleased in him a driving force that he’d held in check for years. Little Andy had become every young man, every youthful gaze, every worshipful sigh, every stuttered question, every glance in the shower – every possibility that the older man had dutifully resisted for his short but successful career lay between his legs right now, impaled on his large, adult cock, and the man fucked each and every one of those possibilities, as he made Andrew a man. 

His lust was driven, too, by an unexpected rage – a rage that would deny a man like him such incredible treasures. If he were a warrior in another time – a Centurion in another era – a Patrician or Senator in ancient Rome, or an Olympian in Greece, competing naked against others of his ilk – this pleasure could be his nightly … a fresh new face to ease his tensions, or a constant youthful companion to share his love and private desires. But not here – not now – not in this time and place … 

Except … as his rape progressed the timelines blurred, made the past the present, made the unattainable possible … 

And as the timelines merged, Coach Jim came into his own. Became his own true self. His fuck was adult, primal, male, controlling and precisely the sex he’d always dreamed of, but never allowed himself to have. 

“Ooooowwwwgawd,” the boy moaned, too loudly. “Ohhhhh Coach,” he cried, tears flowing.

“Shut up, kid,” the older man growled, recovering the boy’s mouth again. “You’re never gonna forget this – never – for as long as you live.”

And it was that knowledge that drove the man home. He couldn’t wait to blast in the boy’s guts, even though the raw sex violated all of his teachings in the afternoon boys-only sex-ed class he willingly taught to earn extra money for his summer sex-excursions through Europe.

He needed to seed the kid – knew that doing so would lay the groundwork for the kid’s future cum lust, which would drive him and control him for the rest of his life. 

So he drove hard, and by now the young man had become limp, willing, eager to accept his fate. Only gurgling sounds tumbled from his drooling lips as the steam swirled around them. The screams subsided, Coach gripped the kids’ hips, feeling the youthful erection that had powered up through the shock of his abuse. 

And so – with that last signal – the man nailed the boy, cock engorging, balls tightening, legs quavering, sweat dripping, hips slapping against his victim. His own sound of release was guttural and, with it, the boy came alive, grinding and whirling like a whore, twerking with a surprising lewdness, urging the Coach to dump his seed into the infertile depths of his new fag-womb. Coach felt the kid’s wrecked hole gripping and tightening. He was a true bottom – his youthful orgasm triggered just by being fucked – and years of future lovers stretched out in the Coach’s imagination, each one abusing the hole that the Coach made in that moment. The images of Andy’s future sex life drove more ropes of thick sperm out of his Coach Cock, filling the boy beyond what he could accommodate, causing their slutslag to squelch out of his youngcunt in fluttering fuck farts. The sounds drove their shared passion even more. For the man, they would remain seared in his fantasies, the sounds of a virgin succumbing to his fuck-stick. For the boy, they would be forever remembered as the achievable dream – the sound that he would seek to replicate with each future conquest.

When it was over – time being difficult to track in the steam – the boy, woozy and dazed, reached out and grabbed at the thick, barely retracted man-cock, touching it, trying to understand how such a large thing had found a home in his small ass. The Coach, colder now, more calculated, wrapped his hands around Andy’s, and together they jerk-cleaned the cock, pulling off the ass-juices and cock-snot. The older man pushed the drooling spermsluice into the younger man’s face, and the boy licked, obediently. Then he fell into the older man’s arms, clutching like a panda, barely able to stand. And, without knowing it – realizing it – the older man’s hands fell down to the youthful crevice, feeling into his newly opened opportunity for exploration and release.

Eventually they were back in the cruel light of the locker room, the older man guiding their actions, helping the young man to get dressed.

“Have you texted your mom,” he asked, uncomfortably reassuming his role as mentor and teacher and adult.

“No – she works late tonight.”

The man nodded, ashamed at the thoughts that flooded into his amygdala. 

“Do you need a ride home,” he asked, encouraging only one response.

“Yes please – yes  … yes, Sir,” Andy said, eyes still glazed, but now worshipful and teary.

The boy walked out ahead of the Coach, who turned out the lights, checking, one last time, for anyone that might have witnessed their transgression.

In the car, there was silence. The boy shuddered, periodically, though, as if wracked by residual orgasms that quaked like after-shocks through his frame. The older man’s cock was hard again. He let it be seen, having shunned underwear while they dressed for precisely this opportunity. He shifted in his seat, grabbing it, pulling it down the legs of his shorts, allowing its girth and hardness to stretch across his right thigh, so it could be witnessed. He found it thrilling to finally allow a younger charge to witness his manhood. He couldn’t believe he had waited as long as he had.

Andy saw it, eyes lasering on the tube, renewed lust sparkling in his eyes.

“How late does your mom work tonight, Andrew,” Coach asked, looking the young man in the eyes for the first time since he’d devoured his virginity.

“Mid-night. She works until mid-night. Gets back at around one. I’m usually asleep by then. But sometimes I hear her come in.”

The older man checked his watch. It was still early. Very. Just barely dinner time.

“Are you supposed to contact her when you get home?”

“Yessir.”

“Why don’t you do that now,” the Coach said, not really making it an option. It was an order.

Andrew pulled out his phone, texting. Coach turned at the next light.

“Where are we going, Coach,” the boy asked, hopefully.

“My place. I’ll get you some dinner. Then … we can talk.”

The boy nodded. The older man nodded. They both nodded, embracing the lie that they knew was a lie. 

There may be a ‘talk’ at some point in their future. But not tonight. There would only be more tonight – they had hours to explore, hours to learn, hours to teach. Thinking more clearly now, Coach Jim reasoned with his conscience that this was really about … you know … sex education. It might as well be him. It needed to be him. A responsible man, willing to clear the path for the next generation.

Andy’s hand reached over, grabbing the cock that flexed and dripped under the fabric. The man groaned. The youth sighed. The traffic crawled. 

Their future beckoned.

Editor’s Note:  It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. But they always come from the same source: my bro @a4f101. No one can “caption” like him. And when he “captions” well … some of us simply have to follow.

STORY TIME: Dad & Son

pagespermer:

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Obsession

He would lie on my bed and play with himself. Every afternoon, after school. I didn’t know it at first. Didn’t know that he would pleasure himself there, jerking out another teen load, while rubbing his fingers over his smooth, hairless hole.

When he was finished he would study. Sometimes he would go again.

Sometimes he would sleep. That’s how I caught him the first time. Well, I didn’t catch him, precisely. I just came home early from work and heard rustling upstairs. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I got to my room I noticed the bed was a little mussed.

Since my time in the Navy I was a stickler for a well-made bed. It wasn’t how I’d left it that morning.

I was curious – but given his age, I figure it had something to do with beating off … I’m not sure how I knew that, but I knew. Or suspected.

I didn’t think much of it until the next morning when I was making the bed. I left a trap – nothing much, just a precise fold that I knew couldn’t be replicated and sure enough, when I came home that night, it had changed.

Now I was more than curious. I was elated – I beat off that night, shooting a huge load over my chest, thinking of my only son doing the same thing in his father’s bed.

Honestly I had never thought of him in that way – had done everything I could to block that possibility out of my head. I was gay, sure, had come out and prompted the divorce, but my son was hands off. It just wasn’t something I even considered … until I started imagining him in my bed, playing with himself.

I mean – I could have been wrong, I suppose: but why hang out in your dad’s bed, after school?

So I bought the camera.

Just to be sure.

That’s what I told myself.

I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. But I couldn’t help myself. I had to know. I had to see.

I should have been prepared for the images. Should have steeled myself against their power. Should have had a sense of what his smooth pale skin would look like.

His perfect ass.

What it would do to me.

But, I didn’t.

That night, seeing the digital images – blocky, jerky – electrified me. He writhed on my bed, touching himself. He was obviously a verbal boy, but there was no sound that went with the images – just his open mouth, forming words and sounds, while he spread his legs, stroked his perfect, perfectly hard cock, touched himself, and then shot a massive load on his alabaster skin.

I shot my own load that night, imagining the taste of his perfect ass, imagining its tightness as it wrapped around my cock – the cock that had created him. I imagined taking his virginity from him – theorizing it was mine, anyway, given the fact that I’m the one that had gotten his mom pregnant.

Became obsessed that night with the thought of doing it – violating, taking, making, mating, using his ass for my needs.

That night – almost instantly – those thoughts became overwhelming.

So many years of refusing to think even one sexual thought about him left me unprepared for the moment when all I could do was think about him sexually.

That weekend I nearly lost my mind with desire, being in close proximity, doing chores, hanging out – sensing that his wandering eyes really were wandering over me, as I strutted shirtless, around the house – gave him an eyeful on Sunday morning while I lounged, half-hard, in my BVD’s.

I insisted to myself that I should not take action – should not act on my desires.

Should not help him explore his own. But these were lies I told myself in order to prevent the unpreventable.

And so …

Stories like this can drag out for months – years even – but I chose a different route. After a weekend of pain – both a need to release AND a refusal to do so, hoping I would get to release in his ass – that ass, that ass that fucking beautiful virginal ass – I decided to act.

On a Monday, no less.

I left work early, claiming a stomach ailment. I timed my arrival perfectly – a half hour after he arrived home from school. I snuck in, through the back, shoes off, creeping upstairs, hoping I would catch him – ready to retreat if I did not.

But – I did. He was on my bed.

Absently playing with himself, while trying to read a book – some assignment for his AP English Class, I supposed. I waited patiently, unbuttoning my shirt, letting my pants fall, fishing out my cock.

In time – as always – as the video had shown – he became more insistent, rolling on the bed, spreading his legs, touching his hole, playing with his cock, using my lube from the bedside table.

Moaning …

“Daddy,” he whispered, to himself, but to the empty room, too – then burying his nose in my pillow, sniffing – then turning, face down, pushing his ass in the air.

“Please – daddy … “

Rigid and erect I stood, transfixed, just outside the door –

For the briefest moment I considered retreat – mostly because I thought I might cum right then and there – thought I couldn’t contain my desire to release.

But fuck that, I thought – fuck that and fuck this and fuck him – that ass needed me and I need that ass.

So, I walked in, confidence masking my fear, and said, “Is this what you want, Tim?”

He shot up – exclaiming.

“Dad – fuck – Dad -”

“Shh,” I said. “It’s okay son.”

I showed myself to him, gripping my steel-hard shaft.

Then I reached down with my other hand, cupping my heavy balls, waving my bat while the pearl pre-cum dripped from the uncut head.

The gesture was lewd – direct – like something I would do in a bathhouse during my Navy days.

“Come on, son – this is what you want, isn’t it?”

The fear was still in his eyes, but the lust returned. He was frozen – cheeks red but the rest of his skin white as snow.

Then he nodded, imperceptibly.

No longer willing to wait I got up on the bed, presenting my cock to him. He gasped, but I kept coming and soon it was in his face, waiting.

“Come on, Tim – I need this, too. I need it bad, son.”

And then I took his head in my hand, trying to be gentle, and pulled him into me, knowing his mouth would open – which it did.

The gulp was urgent, unskilled, clumsy.

In other words, perfect.

The moan shuddered through me as I reached for the perfect ass, pawing in the hairless cleft, feeling the lube he’d already put there, allowing my middle finger to enter. He flinched and shuddered as I drove into his heat with my finger, and began to pump his mouth.

All I heard was white noise as my heart-beat pounded in my brain and I held on to my orgasm, needing to wait until I was beyond his virginity.

“Have you been fucked, son,” I asked, working more lube into his hole while he fumbled with my balls and tried to accommodate the realization of his fantasy.

“Nnnnuhhhnn,” he grunted, shaking his head, never letting his mouth off the head of my cock, which he sucked furiously, tasting my pre- as it gushed into him.

“Good,” I said. “Because I’m going to fuck you now, Timmy.”

And with that I pulled out, grabbed his hips, and shifted our positions forcefully.

I reached into the drawer of the bedside table, under the cum-rags, and pulled out the small brown bottle.

“Sniff on this, son. It’ll help. This is gonna happen.”

He unscrewed the bottle while I dove into his private valley with my bearded face. It was perfect. It tasted perfect. It was everything I needed. I would be down here often, feasting on his ass, teaching him how a man takes care of another man, how he prepares another man, how he paves the way for the violation that is to come.

I heard him snort and I felt him open – then I felt the first waves of popper-lust ripple through him as his hole flexed and puckered. The sound of his grunt broke through my focus, I knew it was time.

If not for him – it was time for me.

“Do it again,” I said, my spit dripping down my beard, my hand slathering my cock with lube. “Snort it deep, son.”

He followed the orders and pushed his ass up – like he’d done in the video.

I knew I should go slow – take it easy – help him – but I couldn’t. I had to be inside him. Had to break through his youth. Had to make him a man.

Had to cum.

I had to cum inside my son.

And so I pushed, breaking into him – letting the head rest while he gasped.

“Don’t worry, Tim. You’re gonna love this.”

And then I pushed deeper, holding him down, purring, pushing, insisting – taking what was mine, all the while telling him he had a beautiful ass – “beautiful, beautiful, beautiful fucking ass.”

He was remarkably relaxed – by that I mean, he didn’t fight me, even though his body was hard with muscular resistance and his hole gripped my stick like a vise.

But I was bigger and stronger and my need was overpowering. This was my son’s virginity I was taking – there would be no denying me.

At bottom he let out a groaning cry that I will remember to this day, and when I heard that I pumped, aggressively, owning it – owning him.

“Yes, baby,” I said, leaning into him. “That’s it. That’s your daddy.”

I began to fuck – long-dicking him – my mouth nuzzling his neck, then down his cheek, searching for his open mouth and tongue, which met me with a wet, lascivious lap.

“Daddy,” he whined. “Daddy -”

And then I was home, gripping his thin waist with my thick hands, fucking him with authority – not rabbit-fucking but man-fucking, making him feel me, all of me, making him feel me be the first – the only – the one – the man that made him and the man that did him.

“I’m going to cum inside of you, son,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Then I’m going to fuck you some more.”

He just nodded, turning his head to me, eyes glazed and wet with tears – mouth open – his inner whore being born before my eyes

Our lips locked as my cock expanded, his eyes bugged, and my balls unleased a torrent of seed, spraying him with fertile sperm.

“Yeah – “ I mouthed, our tongues dancing. “That’s what it feels like, kid.”

And he pushed back into me, no longer resistant – but needy. His head snapped away, pushing into the bed, legs spreading even more, ass lifting even more, his entire body wiling me to flood him – drown him from within.

“Daddy – oh, damn, daddy,” he said, and I fucked him then, more cum spewing, the white seed pouring out with my thrusts, the hole understanding it’s new role.

I fucked him two more times that afternoon.

We slept. Then we ate. Then we made love – I was inside him for hours.

We stayed home the next day – then the next – eventually emerging on Thursday, but only because we couldn’t fuck any more: my cock was raw and limp and his hole was wrecked and swollen.

On Saturday he moved into my room.

On Sunday he fucked me for the first time, showing a sophistication with his impressive cock that was suprising – and that triggered even more desire and deviance.

But that ass – that ass – that ass.

It still inhabits my dreams.

And my cock inhabits it’s tight, marble grasp.

Every night. Every morning.

For the rest of our lives.