This continues my mpreg series, The Rut, in response to a request for “more campy stuff”. The Rut is dedicated to @a4f101 aka @underthemattressblog, our own Stag Buck bro. Thank you to @grahamgroans for the art.
EXCERPT FROM THE RUT, CHAPTER 3: PICNIC AT HANGING JOCK
The boys made their hike at mid-day, in the July heat. None would admit it, but their bloated bellies made it more of a haul than they would have otherwise experienced. Only Dean ran ahead of the pack, less pregnant and more energetic than everyone else. "He’s like a dog,“ muttered Chad.
“We should leave a marker,” said Joey. "The range isn’t very big but it’s twisty and everything looks the same.“
He took a long stick and jammed it to stand in a small crevice, making a marker.
“We need a flag,” said Chad. As the boys looked around and even in the picnic bag Mrs. Crist prepared, Stu started giggling. He pulled his running shorts down, and then the white jock strap beneath. With his big Stag Buck dick hanging free, he hung his jock strap from the stick.
Even Joey had to admire his ingenuity. The boys all stripped from the waist down, leaving the jocks and briefs around the stick, which Jaime dubbed Hanging Jock. As they continued on, the new boys Dean and Forrest were mesmerized by Stu, and the others only a little less so.
Jaime watched Chad, as the muscles in his legs and shoulders worked to carry him up. He silently wished the Rut would let Chad put a baby in him, after he delivered the one he carried. He asked the Rut please to do this, as if it were a sentient being with a will of its own.
As they neared the quarry the rock structures became narrow halls that the boys navigated carefully, their swollen bellies making for hard going, and their erections at the sight of each other’s asses and cocks creating more complications.
The new boys ran on ahead, eager to beat experienced hands.
“Those assholes are gonna’ get lost,” said Chad, and Jaime concurred.
A/N : This idea came to me as I was looking for incest videos, and I just had to write it down. This is going to be a slow buildup, I hope you enjoy it. I was hugely inspired by great authors such as @a4f101 and @pagespermer and originally posted on breeding.zone back in February but I thought I’d share it here as well, where I can edit the typos I can’t on there.
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Fuck, you’re hot, man.
I read the latest message I got on Grindr, looking at the pics from the sender—J21DL, who was just 15 miles away. Just body shots, and what a body it was—all smooth, defined bouncy pecs, and rock hard abs. His screen name explained why he didn’t show his face—I didn’t show mine either, after all. It made my dick stir in anticipation, as I scrolled through his racier pics—which he’d unlocked for my viewing. J21DL had a nice round ass, and a clean, tight-looking hole. His last pic, where he was kneeling, ass in the air, hands spreading his fat cheeks apart, almost made me come.
Some dudes I need to thank for their support and inspiration: @drakestories, @a4f101, @joes1026, @br0b8, @toomuchkryptonite. These guys’ stories get me off, and you should check them out if you haven’t already.
“I have to go.“
Vince Jones was bewildered at first. Ropes of cum, spit, and hole still swung from Shane’s still mostly hard cock, having just finished fucking the daylights out of Vince. He shoved that slimy dick back into his jeans with an unreadable expression. The sound of the zipper seemed like a kind of rejection, and Vince swam in the space between defeat and anger. He got up onto his feet, asking sheepishly, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, man,” Shane Paulson said, his voice quiet and flat. “What we–that was–it’s not you. I shouldn’t–”
Shane scrambled to find his shirt and tugged it over his brawny torso. Vince hated to see the man’s hairy chest covered. Shane was still half-catching his breath after the glorious fuck he just dished out into Vince’s furry ass.
Vince felt the guilt coming off of Shane in almost tangible waves. “Listen, Shane, we’re cool. That was a good time. You shouldn’t feel–”
Shane’s rugged face twisted into a squinting, vicious scowl. His teeth seemed sharper than before as he spit, “Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ feel. Just…don’t.”
Shane Paulson grabbed his hat on the way out, leaving through the way he came in. Vince was still stripped bare, a small thread of Shane’s cum now dripping from his well-plowed ass. He suddenly became aware of how the wooden floor made his knees ache. Vince was abruptly left alone, beads of pit sweat running down his sides. He was upset, curious as to what he might have done to change how things sat between them.
Vince was glad he and Shane Paulson were intimate. The fuck was good–easily in his top five–and Vince walked through his Mama’s house naked with his dick swinging in front of him. He climbed into the bed of his boyhood, the lingering scent of sweat and nostalgia filling the space as Vince Jones let sleep overtake him. __________________________________________________________
The next morning Vince Jones went out for a morning jog, trying to clear his head. He was only back in Texas to clear up his Mama’s affairs. Once that was sorted, Vince would return back to his life. He had a boyfriend back in Boston–it was new still, sure, and Vince felt a dull pang of guilt in letting his teenage crush so easily fuck him last night.
The sun was already blazing, and the run left him covered in a sheen of sweat. Vince had peeled off his shirt after the third mile. His chest hair was matted against his taut muscle, and the smell of his own musk made his balls surge and his cock half-fill.
Vince had made it through Halloway Park, six miles out from the house he grew up in. The Park had a reputation when he was a kid, the kind of place where dudes could go to get their dicks sucked by queers. Vince may have been a young cocksucker, but he had the good sense to stay away from Halloway–if he’d been seen within a mile of the park, he would have never lived it down.
He legitimately had to piss, but chuckled to himself as he made his way to the concrete box that made up the restroom. This is where the magic happens, he thought. Classy.
As he stepped up to the door, another guy–generically good-looking enough for a man who’d let middle age defeat him–was walking out as he zipped up. Vince could see the exiting man clearly had a bulging hard-on tucked into his jeans. He didn’t register it at first, but as he entered the men’s room, he realized into what he had just stumbled.
There was a single stall for a toilet, and along the partition was a sizable hole cut out. Pressed up against it was an ass–hairy, sweaty, and glazed in cum. The hole was puffy and open, clearly just used by the guy who just left. There was a voice that came from behind the wall:
“Hey bro, come get it.” the voice was gravelly and low, confident at its lure. To drive home the invitation, the hole clenched and winked at him. Vince felt his dick harden at the sight, tenting obscenely from his sweat-soaked jogging shorts. He groped himself, deciding that it would feel damn good to bust his nut after how strangely things stood with Shane Paulson.
He stage whispered, “I don’t have a condom, man.” The need to piss was taken over by the need to get off. Still, Vince wasn’t about to stick his cock into some random ass without wrapping it up. That went double considering the circumstances. Vince pulled his dick out from his shorts, and the stale scent of musk and bathroom–of maleness–had him steel-hard. His foreskin had peeled to reveal his bright wet head, and a small pearl of precum had already formed at its tip. “I don’t fuck without one.”
The man in the stall pulled his ass from the gloryhole, standing. He turned and sank to his knees. Peering out to catch Vince’s eye, the man’s face lit up. “Damn, bro. You’re fuckin’ hot! Hold on…”
The man stepped out from the toilet, and he was handsome in his own right. Hairy, bearded, fit, with a shaved head. An intricate tattoo covered his upper arm. He was in a pair of sneakers and a jock, and Vince saw Bald Guy had his clothes–some kind of workman’s suit–rolled up in one of his fists. Bald Guy dropped the suit to the ground, then to his knees, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s my lucky day, bro. Fuck!”
Vince spread his feet and let Bald Guy close in. He reached out with a calloused hand and stroked Vince’s heavy piece a couple times before nuzzling up against his low-swinging sack. Vince felt a tongue washing his balls, loving how it felt against his unshaven crotch. Bald Guy was inhaling heavily, his eyes fluttering closed as he took in the standing man’s natural stink. Bald Guy pulled the foreskin towards him, then skinned it back again. He let out a low whistle, then lined his mouth up to meet Vince’s dripping, raging meat.
Bald Guy looked up to meet his eye. They were gentle, somehow familiar, even though Vince was certain that they never met. Bald Guy opened wide and swallowed Vince to the root, never wavering in his eye contact. His nose was half-lost in a nest of Vince’s pubes. The standing man’s knees almost buckled as the velvet mouth swept down his length.
It was evident that Bald Guy knew how to suck a dick. His throat was warm and tight, and he never once let his eyes wander from Vince’s face. In a way, Vince Jones felt paralyzed. All he could do was watch, dumbfounded, as Bald Guy continued to slide his lips up and down his thick shaft. His tongue was probing against the underside of his cock, forming greater suction as he fucked his mouth against Vince.
Vince could feel his balls tightening, and Bald Guy reached behind them and ran two fingers against his clenching hole. The graze, the sucking, the man’s gentle, goading eyes–all of them tripped his nut, and Vince went weak as the first blast erupted from his fat piece. Bald Guy grunted at the taste of his spunk, pulling back enough to focus on the uncut head. His tongue was a flurry of motion as it probed into the hood, trying to recover any of Vince’s seed.
Bald Guy went deep a couple more times, making Vince shudder as the throat swallowed around his sensitive dick. He kept the cock in his mouth for a minute or so, nursing it gently. Vince started to pull free, his need to piss returning.
Bald Guy grunted as his mouth was evacuated. “Fuckin’ sweet jizz, bro.” When he saw Vince turn to face one of the urinals, Bald Guy clutched the hairy thighs of the man he’d just blown. “Naw, bro. I can take that, too.”
Vince was no stranger to water sports. His ex was a kinky bastard–what made him so sexy was that he was hungry for anything. Andy couldn’t get enough of Vince’s piss.
Bald Guy held his foreskin back, revealing a cum-slick head that was still half hard. He clamped his lips around the head, nodding up to Vince as he again made eye contact. Vince clenched his ass, released, and a hearty stream of piss blasted into Bald Guy’s mouth. He let out a muffled grunt of approval before he began a series of gulping sounds. Bald Guy alternated between letting the man above him fill his mouth with his piss, swallowing, and repeating. Vince emptied his bladder into Bald Guy’s waiting mouth, amazed that he hadn’t released a drop. Bald Guy let go of Vince’s spent dick after he finished.
Vince was wiped out. Now that he came, he wanted to leave. Somewhere during the blowjob, Vince had dropped his shirt and shorts, and he clumsily recovered them. Vince went to wash his dick in the sink, and he looked out from the mirror to see Bald Guy stand. He unraveled the roll of his work uniform and began the process of getting dressed. Bald Guy was telling Vince was a sexy man he was, and going on about how he’d be down for some repeat action.
Vince stopped rinsing his dick and stood slack-jawed as he watched Bald Guy zip up his work suit. On the chest was the name of a landscaping company, and a worn yellowing oval with embroidery. Vince had to brace himself against the filthy sink as he read Bald Guy’s last name.
This is an ongoing story. Check out parts one, two, and three. Again, special thanks to @a4f101 and @drakestories for support and inspiration.
“I–I want, oh MAN!” Vince gasped as Shane drilled his pucker. He pushed his face into the floor as he thrust his butt up to meet Shane’s eager tongue. “I–I need your dick in me. C’mon, don’t make me beg for it. Fuck me, Shane.”
Shane could feel that buzz along the ridge of his balls, the one that always happened before he shot. Vince was ass-up, his forehead tucked into the crook of one of his muscular arms, begging to take Shane’s dick.
He looked down at the manly ass in front of him. Thick, strong, covered in fur. A quivering pussy of a hole, trembling every time Shane exhaled across its wrinkled pink surface. Vince had shivered, groaned, thrashed, and cursed as Shane had eaten out his most intimate place, prepping him the whole time for the sizeable meat that swung between Shane’s legs.
Shane was well-known for having a big dick–back in school, guys gave him the nickname Tripod. Even now, girls threw themselves at him for a shot at his veiny piece, the perfect combination of thick heft and more than eight inches. Hell, more than a few dudes crawled all over themselves for a chance to swing from his dick.
Vince had been the first. For the decade-plus years between then and now, Shane would sometimes rub one out remembering how good a cocksucker Vince Jones had been to him. Open, eager, insatiable, ready to take him balls deep until he blasted. He had never asked to come in Vince’s mouth. It had just been something Shane took for granted, and it was a welcome change than all the girls he’d convinced to go down on him.
Now, Vince had his back arched so that his trench was split open, revealing his opening. Shane pulled back and noticed a pool of fluid on the floor between Vince’s thighs. Leaning in again, he realized that Vince had been leaking precum for a while. It was the first time Shane had seen Vince’s cock, and he was impressed by his size and the folds of his hood.
Shane needed to get off in the worst way. He spat into his hand and glazed it across his piece. He edged Vince’s feet apart with his knees, closing the gap between the blunt head of his dick and Vince’s hungry ass. Shane slapped the heavy underside of it against the furry crack, and Vince cursed at the impact.
Shane dropped another wad of spit onto Vince’s hole, then he lined up his head against it. Vince pushed back and his ass opened up. Both men cried out the word fuuuuuuuck as two inches of Shane pierced into Vince. Vince bore down and pulled away a bit. He bit his lip and steeled himself, and the Vince reached back to grab his left cheek. Pulling his own ass apart, Vince relaxed as much as he could as he sank back onto Shane’s meat.
“Sweet fuckin’ ass,” Shane offered as the hole wrapped around his bare dick. Neither man mentioned it, but there was something powerful and true about feeling the natural fuck. Shane clutched onto Vince’s hips and pulled him back, and he bottomed out until his pubes were smashed against the hole that swallowed him. He growled, “Deep, tight fuckin’ pussy.”
Vince turned his head to look back at the man that breached him. Shane’s filthy talk made his hole clench. He snarled, “Yeah? You like my hole?”
“Fuck yeah, man. That pussy’s so good on my dick.”
Vince gripped the cock inside him and bounced a few inches off of it. He grunted as his eyes fluttered from the sensation. He was unsure about how Shane called his ass pussy, but he was kind of turned on by how Shane was dominating him. He dropped his head back onto his hairy forearm and ordered, “Just fuckin’ pound me out, Shane. Take my hole.”
Shane Paulson heaved his dick out and then shoved back in, nearly knocking the air out of Vince. His dick pulsed as the friction and grip of Vince took him in, and all Shane wanted to do was rut until he emptied his balls. He curled up over Vince’s back, wrapping his arm over his hairy chest. Both men quit talking and Shane took the lead, plowing into Vince’s ass with his impossibly hard dick. His pace was steady, and Vince felt a dull throb of low pain at the point where Shane’s cock hit deepest. Shane was thick as fuck, and the stretch from his girth was edging Vince closer to cum.
Vince was taking the fuck like a champ, and Shane was sawing into him ferociously. The stale room was filled with the rhythmic slap-suck sound of a big cock thrusting in (the slap), followed by the pulling out to repeat (the suck). It didn’t take long before Shane was ready to blast. The suction of Vince’s hole was too much, and Shane picked up the pace into the brutal rabbit fuck. Vince was babbling and groaning as he tore into it.
Finally Shane felt his world drop out from under him as the first of several shot of his cum fired deep. His legs buckled, and each shot made Shane instinctively shove further into the man beneath him. He felt his balls almost ache as the cum felt pulled from them.
Vince could feel the dick inside him throb as it blasted. He counted at least nine bursts of cum before his own balls began to erupt. His foreskin peeled back, and the angry head of his dick fired off onto the floor. Splatters of creamy white flew everywhere in front of him.
Both men were left heaving as they recovered. Vince could feel the heartbeat through Shane’s cock inside his ass, and a fullness from the load he had left there. If Shane was softening after he got his nut, Vince could not tell.
Shane pushed back off of Vince’s back, and he looked down as he started to pull out. His dick was shiny, and its veins were obscene. His own bush was slick and tangled with the hair from Vince’s trench. Both of them groaned as Shane freed himself from the hole that just made him cum. Vince revealed a small pearl of Shane’s seed as his ass was left suddenly empty.
There was a long moment where neither man spoke. It was Vince who broke the silence first, panting, “Holy shit, Shane. That was fuckin’ hot!”
Shane hopped up and started tugging his jeans back up over his still-dripping dick. His voice was flat, with a tinge of regret.
A boy has to learn he was born to serve his father
I wasn’t cool with the idea, at all. At least at first.
I mean, what father would be? Matthew Chandler Driscoll was my only son and the apple of my eye. Handsome, smart, and with a head on his shoulder I’d wish I’d had at his age. We’d crossed a couple of lines we shouldn’t have, after my divorce and after he came out in college. I let my horniness convince me a blowjob from my son was OK.
I wasn’t surprised at the feeling of guilt I felt afterward, but I was surprised by how much I wanted more. Matt was really amazing at giving head and he seemed happier than I’d ever seen him after he leaned up from my lap, my sperm still filling his mouth and covering his lips as he slowly savored the flavor before finally giving steady slow swallows.
So it became our thing. An incestuous affair. I laid down the law and told Matt I expected him to date, to play the field, especially when he moved to the big city after graduation. But every time he visited me was special. Making out, kissing father-to-son, and finally my only boy blowing me in a series of nice, loving worshipful blow jobs.
It was all the hotter now that he was a fully grown man. Trim and athletic in his build. He’d inherited my genetics and run with them.
I got to know what made him tick, in a way a father should not know about a son. That he liked older men, that he’d jerked off to incestuous fantasies from a young age, that he I identified as strictly bottom. I was a little naive and he had to explain to me what that meant.
“Not all gay guys pick a role,” he said as he snuggled his nude body against mine in the master king sized bed. “Some guys don’t even like labels like that. But, I dunno, Dad, the bottom just fits me you know. I like sucking guys off and getting fucked.”
It was a shock to hear my masculine son talk so matter of factly about anal sex, and I let out a reply that came off sterner than I meant. “I don’t think I can go there, son.”
“I know, sir,” he said, in a tone that made me realize he’d hoped I would.
I felt contrite. “I don’t want you to feel afraid to tell your old man anything, you hear?” I said, rubbing his short hair playfully. “Even if it’s not something I go for or understand. I… uh… well, I like know what makes you tick, Matt.”
His eyes were a little misty as he leaned up into a soft kiss. “What about you, Dad? What makes you tick?”
I grinned. I didn’t share my feelings as much as Matt, and he had to wonder what a bi-but-mostly-straight man was doing getting involved sexually with his own son. “I’m not complicated. I love getting head. You give the best head of anyone I’ve ever met.”
Matt smiled, happy for the compliment. I ventured to open up further.
“And, well, I love you son. I guess the sex is an extension of that. It makes you happy and that makes me happy. Unconventional, to say the least, but that’s how it is.”
“Fuck convention,” Matt said, half playfully, half bitterly.
It was the next visit, a few months later, before Matt admitted his true kink. It was another post-coital conversation, me lazily stroking his now hairy torso, him leaning his strong body back against my middle-aged one. I was really glad the triathlons were keeping me toned, but I knew I paled next to Matt’s perfection.
I realized my son had gone quiet. “What you thinking, little buddy?” I realized I was speaking to Matt more and more like a lover, in soft whispered tones.
“You really want to know what makes me tick, Dad?” he asked, nervous as hell.
“Of course,” I reassured him.
“I’m a submissive,” he blurted out. “I like serving men. Having them tell me what to do.” I could almost hear tears in his voice, but the words poured out. “I’ve been dating this guy. Your age. He makes me do his dishes and fold his laundry and clean his place and I’m hard as a rock the whole time, Dad. It’s sick, but I love it and John knows it too.”
“If I’d known,” I joked, “I have some clothes that need ironing.” Matt knew how much I hated ironing.
“I’d do it, Dad. Honest.” Total seriousness.
This was getting deep, fast, and I was getting uncomfortable. “You’re not doing my ironing,” I replied.
“You think I’m sick, Dad. I feel bad I’ve let you down by becoming some guy’s submissive bitch.”
I pulled his head back and kissed him, reassuring him. “No way,” I said in all seriousness. “There are some things your father will never understand, but you gotta follow what you want. Don’t let others judge you or tell you what to do. Just be careful, son,” I added.
“Yessir,” Matt answered, relief in his voice.
Later, as we got ready for bed, Matt told me he was thinking of moving in with this John.
“Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy,” I said.
I didn’t see much of Matt for the next six months. I knew his involvement with a man would mean that he’d cut off sex with me. That’s how it should work. Funny thing, though, I missed him. His blowjobs, his loving touch, and our make out sessions. I hit up Craigslist for a couple of no-string hookups with dudes and that helped.
Out of the blue, I got a text from Matt one night. “I’m coming over tonight OK?” Of course it was OK.
I was surprised by his visit but even more surprised by the bruise and black eye on his face. That bastard John hit my perfect son.
“I’ll fucking kill that son of a bitch,” I growled as I reached for the car keys.
“No, Dad! Please,” Matt urged as he grabbed my forearm. “I filed a police report, things will be better that way.”
He calmed me down, but barely. “I can’t fucking believe he did that to you.”
Matt started bawling. My grown young man, in tears. “It went too far, Dad. I liked being bossed around, but he treated me like shit.” .
I wrapped my arms around him tightly as his stiff body melted into my embrace. “It’s OK, little buddy,” I said in the most assured fatherly tone I could manage. My anger was still seething at this asshole, but mostly I knew I had to direct my energy to comfort and support my son.
“Dad,” he asked in a muffled voice, his face buried in my polo shirt. “Is it OK if I stay here a few days. I took a week off work, so I can figure stuff out.”.
“You bet, Matt,” I said, patting his strong back. He looked up at me with such love and openness, I couldn’t help it. I leaned forward and my lips met his. Maybe the wrong thing to do when he was so vulnerable, but he craved it, I could tell.
We’d kissed before, but this was different. Needy, impetuous. We stripped each other with strong hands, practically tearing each other’s clothes off. Matt moaned as his fingers circled around my erection. “I missed this Dad.”.
“Let’s take it to the bedroom,” I urged, knowing we needed to connect in a deeper way. It was intense making out with Matt on my bed, but it wasn’t rushed. My humping my cock next to his, erection against erection, father against son. His young hard body against my older one.
I looked down on him and for the first time I could read what he was thinking. “John was your daddy wasn’t he, Matt?” Things clicking in my head for the first time.
He nodded. “My daddy,” he said. “But not my Dad. That’s you, sir. No one else.”
Fuck! The intensity of that admission made my heart pound and my dick surge. I reached over to my bed stand and opened the drawer. I didn’t know what kind of lube was best for anal, but I had a half-used tube of KY in there. Matt’s eyes popped open when I pulled it up and flipped the cap.
“We gonna?” he asked hopefully. “Please sir. Please Dad.”
My boy wanted this so much and I was happy to give it to him. My cock. In his hole. I’d fucked one college girlfriend up the ass, but this felt different. Matt was tight but experienced. He knew how to relax and let me in. And I didn’t have the fear of a reluctant partner. My son’s boner stood up rigid as I penetrated him. He let out a soft “Yes!” as my balls pressed against his buns.
I wanted to take it easy, but his hunger fueled my fire. His legs wrapped around my waist, urging me deeper and harder into his hole, and his cried begged me to fuck him harder and faster.
“God, Dad, that’s it. Fuck me, sir. Harder, sir. Make me forget John.
That just made me pound harder, thinking of that asshole who hurt my boy. Never again, while I could help it. “He didn’t deserve to be your daddy, Matt.” I wasn’t sure if my words were reassuring or helpful. But they were the truth. “He didn’t deserve you, little buddy.”
I saw Matt’s cock jerk and hands free sperm shot out of the tip, before heavier jets of jizz followed.
My baser self took over. I didn’t ask if Matt wanted me to continue or to pull out. I just gripped the hairy legs, hoisted them on my shoulders as leverage as I pounded harder, working up a heavy ejaculation inside him when I finally shot.
We made out passionately, hungrily, till our lips were chapped and our chins sore from the stubble. And we fucked again.
***
I woke up late the next morning. I mean I hadn’t overslept in like this in ages. Something about a good lay will do that to you. I don’t think I realized how much I’d needed it. I’d be happy if Matt went back to the city, got his life back in order, and found a guy who’d treat him right. But deep down I know that fucking him was something we both needed last night. I was glad we’d done it.
As it was, I called into the office and explained I was going to be late. A family emergency, which I guess was true enough. I showered and shaved and made my way down the hall.
I smelled bacon and toast and coffee and sure enough a full breakfast was laid out on the table. I was grateful and told Matt so, but I guess I didn’t think much of it.
It wasn’t until after I came home from work that I saw my son in the middle of the living room, with piles of folded laundry around him as he ironed my shirts.
“Hi Dad,” he looked up, a little sheepish. “I was hoping to be done with this before you got home.”
He was wearing just a pair of shorts and I could tell he had a rigid young bone in his crotch. Jesus, my boy was wired with one hell of a kink.
“Matt, you didn’t have to do my laundry.”
He looked at me, eye to eye, man to man, nervous but standing his ground. “I wanted to sir. I want to do this for a real man. One who doesn’t treat my like shit.”.
I loosened my tie and sighed. I couldn’t deny the boy.
“Can’t you wait until after you’ve given me a proper welcome home blowjob? It’s been a hell of a day at the office. Someone kept me up late last night,” I winked.
It’s hard to capture in words the expression on my 25 year old son’s face, but kid on Christmas is pretty close. He hurriedly switched off his iron and came toward me. “Yes, sir. I should have offered you one Dad.” And he scrambled to his knees in front of me as I unzipped.
***
We’re still figuring the roles out. How far I’m willing to go with this. Like today. Beautiful Saturday afternoon out on the porch.
“You want to prop your feet up, Dad?”
I looked up from my book. Matt’s naked, has been for the last two days straight. Says he wants to be ready any time I want to fuck him. “What?” I ask, not comprehending.
With a pliant smile he got down in front of me, on his hands and knees. “Here, rest your feet on my back.”.
I wasn’t happy seeing my grown son acting like a doormat, but as I placed my feet up on him, I heard a sigh of contentment. “Thank you, Dad.”.
I’d always encouraged my son to be independent. In almost every way he was. Great career, his own interests, his own sense of self. But this, this bond couldn’t be denied. I ran my feet lazily on his smooth back, seeing the muscle ripple and the goosebumps break out on his flesh.
“Why don’t you see if you can get a job closer to here? You could move in with me, if you like.”
He looked up, excited and surprised. Begging for confirmation.
“I’m serious Matt.” I reached down and undid my shorts, pulling them down to reveal my hardening cock.
Matt no longer needed instruction. He scooted forward and craned his head to start licking me and taking me into this mouth.
“Just be patient as I learn to be the man you need me to be, son,” I said, softly as my hands and fingers encouraged his expert sucking. And, then, with a firm tug, I pulled his skull tightly against my pubes, wedging his father’s bone tightly into his throat.
This is part 3 of this story. Go read parts one and two.Thanks again to @drakestories and @a4f101 for the inspiration and support.
“Turn around, Vince. Show me your hole.”
Vince shuddered as he heard his walking wet dream commanded him to expose his ass. Shane’s voice had an edge of hunger that made its demand hard to resist. Vince was no stranger to assplay–he considered himself versatile–but it had been a good while since he had been fucked.
Still. Shane did something to Vince,a part of his lizard brain that left his every nerve on fire. His look, his smell, his swagger–all of it made his balls tighten and his hole clench. The nostalgia of their shared past caused his heart to shiver, as though there was a kind of deeper connection. Vince suddenly wanted nothing more than to make out with Shane Paulson, but he hesitated.
Clearly, Shane had some kind of experience with guys since their last time together. The jump from getting blowjobs from the neighborhood gay kid to fucking a man’s ass was significant. Vince didn’t know enough to understand what limits the suburban cowboy and father of three might have.
So instead, he complied with Shane’s request, turning around on all fours and showing off his ass. Hair was thick along his trench, and Vince could feel the sweat nearly dripping down his own thighs. Vince was wholly vulnerable, and it inexplicably made his dick throb so hard that a pearl of precum swelled up from his piss slit.
Shane Paulson put both hands on each of the man’s cheeks, his palms warm and damp as they squeezed the muscles beneath them. Vince had done enough squats to know he had a desirable ass, and there was nothing he wanted more than to surrender his hole to Shane. The man behind him pulled his cheeks apart, and the rush of humid air against his most intimate part made it quiver and clamp shut.
“Fuckin’ hot pink hole, man,” Shane’s voice seemed at once confident and reluctant. To Vince, it felt as though Shane was working through how far he wanted to go. The dirty talk made his cock drip, though, and Vince moaned softly as he bent over further. He crossed his arms in front of him and buried his face into the dark hair of his forearms. The arch of his back made his ass spread a bit more open. It was Shane’s turn to moan.
Shane began rubbing Vince’s ass tentatively, then more aggressively. His thick fingers brushed against the hair along Vince’s crack, then Shane pushed further in to graze against the man’s rim. Both men groaned together, and Vince unconsciously pushed back towards the man feeling up his butt.
Shane moved forward to his knees, his jeans now a tangle around his boots. He rubbed insistently against Vince’s hole with one hand while vigorously gripping the meat of his glutes.
From beneath his own thighs, Vince could see Shane’s cock looking even bigger than he remembered–fat, plastered with a mass of dark fur, veins twisting an angry map across its length. He wondered how realistic it was to take it inside his hole at all, much less survive the pounding he craved. The very idea made him shudder, and more precum oozed from his own substantial piece. A trail of his clear spunk began to drip from the edge of his dick’s hood and pool onto the floor beneath him.
Shane pulled his hands from the crack in front of him, inhaling deeply as he brought the fingers to his mouth. He licked them gently, then opened his mouth to suck the funk that had come from Vince’s hole. Shane grabbed the meaty cheeks and mashed them together. A moment later, Shane Paulson leaned in as he pushed open Vince’s ass. Vince felt the man’s hot breath against his pink clench, then the soft probe of Shane’s tongue.
Vince curled his back up and rammed his hole into Shane’s face, and Shane met the pressure with his own. Both men grunted as they sank into their reveries, Shane feeling Vince’s ass fluttering against the wet spear of his tongue. Vince knew Shane had been a pussyhound back in the day, and it was apparent that he wasn’t scared to chow down on a hole. Vince’s dick was pulsing, his balls pulling up and threatening to blast.
Shane was a man possessed, chewing on the hairy pucker with a frenzied pace. His tongue became a pad, swiping against the crack so he could swallow every drop of Vince’s musk. The scruff on his face scraped against the hole, making the pink seem to puff up and brighten. Vince’s hole was twisting against his tongue, clenching and opening in rhythmic pulses. Shane had let go of his steel-hard cock minutes ago, scared that he would nut before he had his prize.
Shane was feasting, while Vince was shoving his ass back to get more of Shane’s mouth against where he opened. The hair on Vince’s ass–and Shane’s beard–were both smeared slick with spit and sweat. Their grunts became a chorus they used to egg one another on. It was Vince’s turn to push their fuck to the next level.
“I–I want, oh MAN!” Vince gasped as Shane drilled his pucker. He pushed his face into the floor as he thrust his butt up to meet Shane’s eager tongue. “I–I need your dick in me. C’mon, don’t make me beg for it. Fuck me, Shane.”
This is a continuation of the story found here. Thanks again to @drakestories and @a4f101 for the encouragement!
Shane pushed through the door that Vince had left unlocked. Vince turned around and headed further into the house without waiting for him, but he was glad he could hear the footfalls of Shane’s boots as he followed behind.
Without looking back, Vince headed into the living room. A large couch remained the only thing not wrapped up for storage. Then he considered the man behind him. “You wanna beer?” Vince asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
It was Shane’s turn to sound unsteady. “I’m good,” he replied. He stood in the threshold between the kitchen and living room, looking down at his own boots. Vince noticed that Shane’s dick had softened a bit, but its weight still filled the front of the man’s Wranglers. Vince could swear he could smell Shane from several paces away, the heat of its promise making Vince start to sweat.
Vince turned, and for a good, long moment, the two men just looked at one another. Then Shane took off his cowboy hat and dropped it on the nearest stack of boxes. Vince was suddenly aware of his own hardness, his cock twisted in his shorts as it throbbed.
Shane took the steps to cover their distance. “It’s hot in here,” he offered as he peeled off his shirt. It was new for Vince, but he wasn’t about the complain. Shane looked almost carved in the stale light, with dark hair splattered in a more thick patch than Vince remembered.
“Make yourself comfortable, man,” Vince smiled weakly, realizing that this conversation was perhaps the longest and most substantive they had ever had. Vince knew nothing about Shane, not really, and time had done them both no favors. He stepped out of Shane’s way, nodding towards the couch.
Vince damn near came in his underwear when Shane Paulson popped the top two buttons of his jeans. The musk that seemed to rise up from his thick-grown bush made Vince swoon, his sense of self evaporating as the sweat-sweet-dirty smell filled the room.
The next couple buttons came undone, and Shane slid his thumbs under the sides of his jeans. He almost made a show of peeling down, revealing that he was commando. Shane’s dick, at once familiar and entirely something new, bounced out with a heavy swing as his jeans made their way halfway down his meaty thighs. Dark fur covered his legs and crotch–Vince remembered how, as boys, Shane had always been hairy. The years just seemed to make this hair fill out, and the stink of his junk made Vince’s hole clench involuntarily.
“Get naked, man,” Shane’s voice shattered his reverie, its depth seeming to cut the tension. Vince was suddenly mystified. What had happened in the time since their last time together?, Vince wondered where this was going. Still, he obeyed the man that had been the object of his teen spankfests, stripping as quickly as he could. Shane’s mouth hung open a bit as he watched Vince remove his clothes, anticipation evident in his eyes.
Vince had treated the gym like a kind of church since college, and it had paid off. As he got bigger, he got stronger. As he grew into his own, Vince became more keenly aware of his sex, the men he craved, what got him off the hardest. Vince had hard-earned muscle packed onto his tight frame, and he liked how his body hair grew out to cover his chest and belly and cock.
Shane dropped onto the couch, his hand absently stroking his long dick as he watched. Vince kicked off his shoes and then his shorts, revealing his own aching prick. It jabbed up to his belly in an angry arc, the hood skinned back to reveal a glistening mushroom head. College had helped Vince become proud of his cock, and Heaven knows he had plenty of chances to get acquainted with how to use it.
There was a new kind of hunger playing across Shane Paulson’s face, and Vince nearly shot his wad when he saw the hairy cowboy reached up to twist his left nipple. Shane’s eyes fluttered at the sensation, but he continued to glower at the naked man before him.
Vince fell to his knees and used them to crawl closer to the couch. Shane demanded, “Stop.” Vince licked his lips ravenously as he met Shane’s eye. He could not read the man’s expression, but he also could not deny his own need. Shane then said something that Vince never would have guessed, and it threatened to make him blow his nut.
Tales from Under the Mattress 