Date: Wed, 17 May 2017 00:37:29 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <a4f101@yahoo.com>
Subject: Good With Words

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/145815378269/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

"Here he is," he said, yanking the door open, a grin on his mug, heavy with
beard shadow even though it was barely mid-afternoon. "The man of the
hour."

"Ah come on," I said, waving him off as I stepped inside. His big hand
clapped me between the shoulder blades, and even after all these years, I
was never fully prepared for the impact. It was a solid thud, but a good
one, and the way his hand rubbed the point of impact in an easy circle made
it even better.

"Own it, buddy," he said, the rubbing hand sliding easily up to my
shoulder, and I felt the thickness of his powerful arm as he squeezed it
around my back and guided me into his hotel room. "You did me proud today."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, trying not to blush, because for all the
glad-handing and hand-shaking and compliment-making today, his was the
approval I wanted. I'd felt it like a physical presence around him,
especially when he hugged me proudly for pictures outside the auditorium,
my diploma held up between us, just like he was hugging me now. Only now we
were alone, all the graduation obligations taken care of, the door clicking
closed and locked behind us. Outside, it was a beautiful high-spring
day. In here, the blackout curtains were drawn, just one lamp on, casting a
low, warm glow.

"C'mon," he said, his big arm still heavy on my shoulders. "Time for a
drink, what do you say?"

He stepped over to the desk and retrieved a bottle from his overnight bag,
as I laid the suit bag with my graduation gown in it over the armchair. I
watched him pour a couple healthy measures into water glasses, drop a
couple ice cubes in each, and step back to me.

Damn, but he looked good. He wasn't the kind of guy to wear a suit and tie
much. He was a hard-working, blue-collar guy with grit under his
fingernails – he looked much more in his element in dusty Carhartt
pants, a T-shirt advertising his construction company stretched tight
across his beefy torso, big mud-spattered boots on his feet. He had the
kind of mug that told you his whole story – tough, rugged, a good ol'
boy who'd made good through his own sweat over the years. Almost
permanently shadowed with stubble, it wasn't what you'd call a classically
handsome face – he'd taken more than a few punches since his high school
football days, and his skin was showing the signs of decades of exposure to
the sun. But it was a fine, strong face, with twinkling eyes and a generous
mouth that smiled readily.

I was pretty amazed he'd kept his tie so neatly knotted as long as he had,
even through lunch, when he'd finally shed his suit coat to reveal the
dress shirt clinging to his bulky, muscular shoulders and chest. Now, he
had the tie loosened, the top button undone, showing a few curls of the
dense, dark hair at the base of his throat that thickened over his beefy
chest and down the tight, muscle-packed drum of his stomach. That grin on
his face as he handed me my glass. He looked amazing, but then he'd always
looked good to me, for as long as I could remember. A little thicker now
than when I was a kid, but even more powerful for it. I felt that hum of
attraction deep in the pit of my stomach as we raised our glasses, his eyes
almost sparkling on mine.

"Damn proud of you, son," he said. "Everything you've achieved, all the
work you put in. Today's the proof. Never been prouder of ya, kid."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, ducking my head modestly, feeling a little bit of a
blush. But he was right, and it was OK to acknowledge it. I'd worked hard
to get here, just shy of 4.0, Chancellor's List, capping it off with the
honor of being chosen as student speaker at Commencement just a few hours
ago. Nearly ten thousand sets of eyes on me as I'd stood on stage and
delivered my short speech, but his were the only ones I'd really
felt. Dad's eyes on me, attentive and encouraging, like they'd been my
whole damn life. And now here we were, two men in a room, all the rest of
that stuff by the wayside. Both of us ready for the next thing.

"Thank you, buddy," he said warmly. "For being the best damn son a man
could ask for." He wasn't the kind of guy to just say things without
meaning them, which made everything he said more powerful. I felt a bit of
a lump in my throat. "So here's to you, my boy," he said, clinking his
glass to mine.

"No, Dad," I said, swallowing that lump in my throat. "Here's to us. To the
future."

"Hell, I'll drink to that, kid," he said, his grin spreading wider, as we
raised our glasses and sipped. Damn, whatever this was, it was fine stuff
– the rich, smoky tang of a damn good bourbon, complex and mature, a
warm, silky glow on the tongue and down my throat.

"Something special, for a special day," he said, like he was reading my
mind. We'd always been attuned like that. On the surface, we were pretty
different, me with my leaner, trimmer body, the finer features I'd
inherited from my mother, my studious nature. I was a man in his image,
even if we did look a little different – but we were the same in all the
important ways. I could feel that deep connection even more strongly now.

"A strong drink with a strong man," I said with a half-grin just like
his. I drained off my glass, feeling that warm, silken heat slip through me
as I set my glass down on the little table beside us. "Just like I like
best, Dad."

"That goes for both of us, son," he said. He polished off the second finger
of his bourbon, and set his glass next to mine. We both stood there, quiet
for a minute, and let the electricity just crackle between us. Humming like
it had done since I'd hit my mid-teens, really started to become a man,
started to understand why we were so powerfully connected. Started to see
that he felt it too.

"Fine speech you gave today," he said. "You always did have that way with
words. Not like me."

"Nah, Dad, I got it from you," I said. "I can just use it a little
differently. For everyone else, anyway. With you... just you and me... we
speak the same language, and we speak it well."

"Yeah, son?" he said, that amused grin on his rugged, stubbled mug and the
twinkle in his eyes driving me quietly nuts.

"Yeah, Dad," I said, letting my voice drop a notch, letting the fine
bourbon and the heat I was feeling inside come through as I locked my eyes
more intently on his.

"You big fucking stud," I said, quiet but confident, direct. Just like he'd
taught me to be. "Looking all handsome as fuck in your suit. Watching me in
front of all those people. Good thing nobody could see behind that lectern,
or under that big fucking gown. `Cos as soon as I found you in the crowd,
saw the way you were looking at me... looking at your own kid... I got hard
as fuck in my trousers, Dad."

"Yeah, did ya, buddy?" he said, his already deep voice dropping a little
lower, all husky and a little eager. Wanting to hear more. He stepped in a
little closer, his thick fingers reaching for the knot in my tie. Running
over it, down the length of the silk, then back up to where it knotted at
my throat. Slowly tugging it loose. Spurring me on.

"I did, Dad," I said, locking eyes with him. "Seven thick inches of son
cock, hard as steel inside my shorts. Thinking about you. About us. And for
all those fine words I was saying, about self-motivation and being
curious... I was really thinking about how you motivated me to do well."

"And how was that, kid?" he said with a playful edge to his voice as he
slowly unknotted my tie and pulled it free.

"With your big fucking arms around me, Dad," I half-growled. "Your big
fucking son-maker of a cock nestled up against my ass, hard and sticky and
throbbing... your lips to my ear, telling me I could be anything I wanted
to be, as you pushed your cock up inside of me."

"Mmmmm," he murmured, those thick, rough-edged fingers working at the
collar button of my dress shirt. "When you talked about being curious, you
know you gave your old man a big, fat ol' hardon too, son."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Fuck yeah, son," he growled. "My curious kid, coming to me like you did
that first time. All those years looking at me, touching me, wanting to
touch me more... more than I let you..."

"At first, anyway," I grinned, my hands reaching to settle on his waist,
squeezing lightly. "You never let me do much more than look at that big
fucking cock of yours... your big, manly muscles... all your fur..."

"My curious little buddy," he murmured, slowly making his way down my
shirtfront, undoing the buttons as he went. "Always wanting to take a bath
with your Daddy."

"Seems like you enjoyed it as much as I did, Dad," I said. "Even got that
big cock you made me with hard for me, so I could see it. See what a man
was like. What I was gonna be someday."

"Wasn't too tough to do, son," he grinned. "Too young, but damn you were a
good-looking kid. And it was hot that you were so into me. My muscles. My
dick."

"Into my Dad, more than anything," I said. "The man who made me. The man I
wanted to be with. Even then, I knew it."

"And then you got it, buddy," he growled, as he reached my belt. My shirt
was as open as it could get without being untucked, and when he slipped his
big mitts inside it to trace his fingers over the firm muscles beneath my
undershirt, I shivered all over, like I always did when he touched me like
that. "Your curiosity satisfied."

"Nah, never satisfied, Dad," I growled. "Rewarded, for sure. But not
satisfied. You just made me even more curious."

"And now, here we are, son," he grinned. "See where it got you?"

"Got me in this hotel room with you, alone, Dad," I said. "My cock all big
and hard again. For you. Nobody around to hear or see. Just you and me, two
men. Bein' curious."

"So let's reward that curiosity of yours, bud," Dad said, leaning in close
until his warm, bourbon-strong breath was gusting over my parted lips, into
my mouth.

"You think I forgot how your hand felt on my cock, that one time in that
bath, Dad?" I said huskily. "Making your boy hard like you were? Telling me
what a fine dick I had? What a man I was becoming? You're a curious fella
too. And look where it got you too."

"Got me here with my boy," he grunted, reaching down to lightly stroke the
big bulge in my trousers. "My son. My fucking man."

"Damn right it did, Dad," I growled back, returning the favor, pressing the
palm of my hand against the big, thick mass tenting the front of his
khakis. "So let's reward yours too."

I was amazed we'd lasted as long as we had, but it just made our kiss all
the more potent for its inevitability. His lips crushed against mine,
finding them open for him, ready for the thick, strong muscle of his
tongue, sucking it inside of me as I cupped the back of his head and fed
him mine in return. We grunted and growled into each other's mouths as our
tongues wrestled, thick and wet and bourbon-smoked, our spit starting to
flow thick and fast as we swapped and mixed and shared it. Kissing the way
he'd taught me to, and like everything he'd taught me over the years, I
wanted to prove how well I'd learned from him.

I was unbuttoning Dad's shirt while we fed on each other, grunting and
growling and slurping up each other's spit, lips smacking in the quiet,
cool air of the hotel room. The sounds of men entering rut together. I
tugged his tie loose, then pushed his dress shirt off the big, muscle-dense
mass of his brawny shoulders, taking a moment to squeeze the warm flesh of
them, the thickness of his traps, the steely bulk of his powerful upper
arms. He had a wifebeater undershirt on, filled to capacity with furry,
muscle-packed beef, the neck of it overspilling with more of his thick,
dark chest fur. God damn, he was all man, and just the scent of him was
enough to get my cock tweaking inside my shorts.

We pulled apart long enough to yank our undershirts off, and then we were
reaching for each other's belts, unbuckling slowly. I took a moment to rake
my eyes up and down the thickset, beefy power of this man who'd made me,
the natural power of his chunky muscles, appreciating the way he'd
thickened up from the hard-carved lust object of my youth into a specimen
of pure masculine brawn.

Dad's eyes were roving over my body too, his thick fingers working my belt
undone and my pants open. I let them drop to the floor, stepping out of
them, planting my feet and tensing the long, hard muscles of my thighs, and
let him look me over.

"God damn, you're a fine-looking stud, son," he growled, trailing his
fingers up and down the tight muscles that lined my torso, then lightly
over the big, angry bulge of my cock in my boxer briefs. Already, I was
starting to leak for him. "A fine-looking man," he said, his eyes gleaming
as they met mine again.

"The man you made, Dad," I said. "Made me with your big, thick cock, with
the seed in your fat fuckin' balls, sir. Shot that cumload to make me. So
you could shoot more cumloads with me... on me... inside of me..."

I was edging closer to him as I spoke, loving how rapt he was listening to
me, the soft grunt as I yanked his pants down his thick, powerful thighs,
and reached for the huge mound in his briefs. Cupping it as I spoke,
squeezing lightly, feeling it throb and leak in response to my touch.

"Made me to be your boy, in every way, didn't you Dad?" I whispered against
his lips, before he let out a soft grunt and crushed them to mine. He slung
his big arms around me and squeezed me tightly to him, our cocks throbbing
together through the cotton stretched tight over them. Hard and wet for
each other.

We got lost in that for a while, hands and lips and tongues exploring, the
grunting, heavy-breathing sounds of two men in total lust for each
other. The density of his beefy, muscle-packed body, the thick abundance of
his manly fur, the throbbing, insistent heat of his big son-making cock
against me was totally intoxicating. I pushed his arms above his head,
sniffed and nuzzled my way into them as he cupped the back of my head and
murmured husky encouragement.

"Yeah, go deep on your Dad, buddy," he said. "Taste your man's sweat, sexy
kid. Daddy's little fuckstud."

I lapped at the accumulated sweat in his pits, his natural manly scent
unmarred by deodorant. Just the vague ghost of the soap he'd used this
morning trapped in the rich, abundant fur, hiding beneath the sharp-edged,
intensely masculine taste and smell of his essence. When I came up to kiss
him, hard and aggressive and wet, his tongue eagerly swabbed my mouth as we
traded his rich flavors. Then he pushed my arms up and returned the
favor. I shivered all over and grinned as I stroked the bulk of his mature
muscles, and for the millionth time in my life, I felt like the luckiest
guy in the world.

"What you said about self-discipline today, that was good, son," he grunted
as he slid his big paws inside my underwear in back, giving the hard
muscles of my ass a deep squeeze.

"Got you thinking too, huh Dad?" I grinned, licking my way up the side of
his throat.

"Sure did, son," he grinned. "How you and me held off from going too far,
too soon. How important that was. How much better it made things."

"Like you weren't thinking how good it could've been if we'd just gone for
it, right from the start," I murmured into his ear with a knowing
chuckle. "Instead of you standing in my bedroom doorway, this big fucking
cock of yours in your fist, watching your boy jerk off."

"Watching you jerk off for me, you little stud," he growled, pausing to
slash his tongue inside my eager mouth. "Stroking that kid cock for your
Dad... showing me how hard you could cum, being watched like that."

"Like you showed me how hard watching your own son made you cum too, Dad,"
I growled. "Shooting all over my floor. Until you got bold enough to come
closer, so you could shoot it all over me while I jacked my load out for
you, big guy."

"Fuck you were a hot kid," he rumbled. "Still are. My hot, dirty-talking
little fucker."

"You wanted to just throw all that caution out the window, didn't you Dad,"
I murmured in his ear as I slid my hand down the length of his briefs
bulge, up and down, teasing even more thick pre into the soaked fabric.

"Yeah, just get in bed with you and show you how men do, kid," he
half-moaned. "Like you wanted me to."

"It was worth the wait though, Dad," I said, before sliding my hand inside
the pouch of his briefs to take hold of his powerful, precum-slicked
thickness. It throbbed in my hand like an old, familiar friend. "I was so
ready for you to get my cherry."

"And you've been my boy ever since, haven't you, buddy," he grunted,
feeding me his tongue again as his thick fingers roamed up and down the
cleft of my ass. "Daddy's boy. Daddy's man, now."

"All yours, always," I moaned, shivering at the sensation as his
experienced fingers worked closer to my sweet spot. He grinned at that, fed
me a slower, deeper, sweeter kiss, then disentangled himself from me,
stepping away to pour us another drink. We'd kind of perfected this over
the years since my mid-teens - winding each other up, then cooling down,
then getting back into it, deep. He'd taught me the value of that, of
self-discipline and reward. Making the end result even better, by putting
in the work along the way. So much of what he'd taught me had made its way
into the speech I'd given today, and even though the specifics were
scandalous, knowing he was reading between the lines with me in that
crowded auditorium just made all the reminiscences hotter. I wasn't
exaggerating when I'd told him how hard I was. I was literally leaking in
my shorts as I remembered all the specifics of the things he'd taught me,
even as I talked about them in generalities to the rest of the audience.

Dad sipped on his drink, a few feet of distance between us, and just
silently watched me. I knew how this went. I ran one hand over the thick
length of my cock, obscenely tenting the front of my shorts now, the other
over the firm contours of muscle on my chest.

"Always loved the way you looked at me, Dad," I murmured. "Loved showing
myself to you. How big I was getting. How big you made my cock. The way
your cock would get big for me too, watching me. Just like this."

I hooked my thumbs in my waistband and slowly inched my shorts down,
showing him the thick base of my cock, more of it appearing as the elastic
pulled it down, giving me that pleasant twinge deep inside.

"See how hard I am now, Dad? Always been like this, since I could get
hard. For one man. You. Making me touch myself even before I could
cum... and when I started to make cum... it was all for you, big guy."

Dad grunted as he sipped, his eyes roving over my body as he listened and
squeezed his own thickness.

"Letting me see your body too... knowing your own kid was hot for
you... and that made you even hotter for us, didn't it, Dad?"

"You fucking know it... you knew it too, didn't you, little buddy?" he
said, his low, husky voice sending another thrill through me as I stepped
out of my boxer briefs, kicking them up in the air with one foot and
catching them. I sniffed them, smelling my own manly scent, and felt my
cock jump.

"Yeah, I knew it," I said. "Knew that big cock you made me with wanted to
get inside of me, Dad. Just turned me on even more. Made me shoot more
young cum for you, and us. Waiting for the day..."

I closed the gap between us and brought my shorts up to rub them over his
nose and lips, hearing him inhale deep as I palmed his throbbing bulge with
the other. I took his drink from his hand and sipped on it, running my
tongue around the rim of it before handing it back.

"Feeling your cock all hard in your swim shorts in the pool, all pressed up
against my tight little ass... knowing you wanted to get inside of it,
Dad..."

"Shot so many loads thinking of it, kid," he growled, cupping the back of
my head and pulling me in for another long, wet kiss.

"I know, Dad," I grunted. "Left the bathroom door open so I could watch you
do it. Knowing I was right there, my hand in my shorts, stroking too."

We kissed hard and deep again as I took hold of his briefs and yanked them
down, his cock hefty, heavy and hard, thick as fuck and sticky in my hand
as I stroked it appreciatively, makign him growl around my tongue.

"Come a long way since then, Dad," I murmured when we parted, one hand
firmly holding his cock, the other running up the barrel of his chest,
squeezing his steely, furry pecs. "Learned a lot about myself. Learned it
from you."

"So why don't you show me what you learned, kid?" he said, that cocky smirk
on his stubbled mug turning me on even more.

"Like, how I learned to ride the cock my Dad made me with, you mean?" I
said, planting both hands on his beefy pecs and pushing him back towards
the big hotel bed. "How I learned to shoot my son cum all over these
muscles, deep in your fur, Dad?"

"Yeah, show me what a good student my boy is, son," he grinned, easing back
onto the bed, that thick club of his cock gleaming in the low light from
the lamp as he held it upright. "Get your educated ass over here and show
me how well Daddy taught you, you little fucking stud."

Dad had taught me a lot of things, and I'd learned very well, not least of
which was how to open myself up and slide slowly, almost teasingly down the
throbbing thickness of his cock. The muscles of my thighs bulged with the
effort of lowering myself at a measured pace, feeling his blunt tip nudge
at me, glazing my hole with his precum, watching his handsome mug light up
with delight as he felt the slicked-up entrance opening to him.

"Yeah, I lubed my hole up for you this morning, Dad," I grunted, eyes
widening as the fat, blunt head of him entered me. "Stood up there giving
that speech to all those people, with my fucking hole practically
dripping. Knowing I was gonna fuck myself down on you as soon as I could,
Dad."

I sank my fingers into the plush flesh that covered the steely hardness of
his shoulders, looking down into his rapt eyes.

"Just like my high school graduation, Dad... so I was ready for the load
you fucked into me behind the bleachers..."

"Aw fuck, buddy," Dad growled. "Fucking that sweet teen ass of yours right
there in the open..."

"Like I wanted you to do every Friday night after my games, Dad," I moaned,
as the thick, veiny girth of him probed up deep indie of me, filling me up
like only he ever could. "Boned up in my jock just seeing you in the
stands, watching me... wishing it would happen..."

"Sucking my fucking cock in the truck in the parking lot afterwards," he
growled, running his hands up my thighs to cup my glutes and spread them
wide, guiding me further down his thickness. "'Cos you were too fucking
horny to wait `til we got home..."

"Like when I sucked your big Dad cock in the dugout that one time after the
game... made you shoot your cum all over my uniform..."

"Aw fuck," he growled, pulling my head in to kiss me feverishly as he
thrust his hips up and filled me with his full length, making me moan into
his mouth. We both savored the sensation of him buried inside me as we fed
each other our warm spit, before I slowly began to ride him.

"Fuck yeah, ride Daddy's cock, baby boy," he murmured, running one hand
over the flexed muscles of my chest while the other wrapped round the
throbbing arc of my superhard cock.

"Big fucking Dad cock you made me with, stud," I grunted, starting to fuck
myself on his epic piece. "Riding this big son-making dick of yours. Like
the night you took my cherry. All my buddies asleep downstairs while you
fucked my ass at last. Giving me my birthday present."

"Giving you what I'd promised you for years, son," he grunted, thumbing my
cockhead in one hand and my stiff nip in the other. "Special promise for my
boy."

"Telling me how hard it was to wait that long to fuck my cherry hole, right
Dad?" I panted, as he hit all the right spots inside and outside of my
body. "Not as hard as it was for me... making do with those kisses of
yours... jacking off by your side while you told me how good it was gonna
be when we finally fucked..."

"Teaching you how to talk like men do, son," he grinned. "And look at you
now, using your words like the stud kid I always knew you were."

I had to kiss him then, hungry for as much of him as I could get. It had
been like this between us for years, almost a decade, the slow-building
fire of our mutual attraction. Dad showing me that as wrong as everybody
else would say our bond was... for us, it was exactly right. For all the
adventures we might have with others, it was these moments, when we came
back to each other and let the talk flow between us as our bodies found
their natural rhythm together, that we knew how right we were together. I'd
been thinking a lot about that lately, as I looked ahead to my future. We'd
kept our deep, taboo bond alive the last four years, separated during the
semesters - made it stronger, even. Long, intense phone and Skype
conversations as we stroked our cum out for each other and
reminisced. Maybe that would be enough, if one of my job offers came
through and I had to move away from him. Maybe.

"No matter where you go, kid," he panted, his rugged mug and brawny torso
gleaming with sweat. "I know you'll go far... and I'll be there with
you... one way or another... `cos there's a part of me in you, always..."

"There sure fucking is," I grinned, squeezing myself all around the length
of his cock, as I watched his eyes roll up a little. Distracting myself
from the way he could just about read my damn mind.

"Little fucker," he growled, playfully cuffing the back of my head. "You
know what I mean. Always gonna be together, even when we're not."

"Always gonna be into each other," I panted, feeling the steady approach of
my orgasm. "Always have been."

"Always will be, baby boy," he moaned. "Meant to be. And until then... we
got the summer..."

"Summer in your fucking bed, Dad..."

"And my truck... and the job site... and the pool..."

"And we're gonna go back to my old school, too... get you to fuck my ass in
that dugout, like I wanted to do back in the day... when you said I was too
young..."

"But you're not too young now, buddy," he moaned. "Maybe you never
were. And maybe we'll pretend, and I'll fuck your sweet little ass like
maybe I should've then... finish what you started when you wrapped those
pretty lips round my cock..."

"And you can tell me all those fantasies about us you keep secret, Dad," I
panted. riding him harder and faster, full of cock and ready to
explode. "All the things you were too scared to tell me..."

"Use my words, just like I taught you to, huh baby boy?" he panted,
grinning, and the look in his eyes and the idea of all the things he might
say, all the secrets he might finally tell me, completely did me in. He
squeezed my thigh with one big hand, then just grazed the leaking head of
my cock with his rough-skinned thumb, and I was a goner. For once, I didn't
have any words, just a series of choked gasps and moans as we both looked
down to watch my cock twitch and throb and start to shoot. Long, thick
ropes of pearly white cum, streaking up through the thick, sweaty fur on
his torso, all the way up between his pecs.

"Good boy... cum for Daddy," he murmured, but all I could do was moan in
reply as I surfed the wave of my load. I knew my body was milking his big
cock, planted deep inside me, and I could see his impending cum written all
over his face, following closely behind mine as he got this intense look on
his characterful mug.

"Do it, Dad," I panted, finally finding my words again. "Cum in your
boy. Breed me up."

I leaned forward, my hands either side of his head, as our eyes locked,
letting my lips just graze his as I murmured to him.

"Knock me up like you always wanted to, Daddy," I
half-whispered. "Impregnate your own son, you big pervy fucking stud."

"Ah buddy," he choked out, then lunged for my mouth as his strong hands
clutched my hips hard and he thrust up into me - one, two, three hard,
intense thrusts, and then he froze in place. His choked grunts filled my
mouth along with his tongue as I suckled on it and did my best to use my
ass muscles to milk the cum out of him. I wished for the millionth time
that I could feel him shooting inside of me, instead of letting my brain
imagine the slow-spreading warmth of the cum he'd made me with flowing
through me, filling me up.

As intense and sweaty and deep as things could get between us, the
afterglow was always sweet, relaxed, easy. We shared another glass of
bourbon between us, along with a slow, dripping series of kisses. No rush
to get anyplace, just enjoying each other. We had a whole summer stretching
ahead of us at least, and beyond that, who knew? Until then, there'd be
plenty of time to reconnect, and play, and explore, and most of all, to
talk. Talk about anything and everything. I was pretty good at it - I'd
learned from the best. I had a few stories to tell him, fantasies to
share. I figured he did too - hell, I knew he did.

"Maybe I'll tell you a story about this one time I saw you in your Speedo
at the community pool, kid," he murmured in my ear now. Already, I could
feel my cock stirring with interest. "What I had to go do in the changing
room afterwards... and what I really wanted to do in there... with you..."

"Tell me more, Dad," I said, grinning as I rolled over against his big,
thick chest as he started to use his words on me again.