Date: Thu, 30 Aug 2018 19:49:51 +0000 From: Bill Drake Subject: Dadfuckers Club ch. 5 Horny Dad Tales #34 The Dadfuckers Club Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com) The usual disclaimers apply: this is a made-up fictional story for adult readers only. It contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between men, including men who are related. Nifty Archive relies on the support from readers to keep doing the awesome work they're doing. Please take some time to pay back and pay it forward. Horny Dad Tales #33 The Dadfuckers Club Chapter 5 Ryan's Story You never know what weekends are going to be life changing. But I did know I'd had one hell of a dry spell. See, I have a thing for Coach Daddies. Actual coaches are the best, but guys who look like coaches work for me, too. Meaty ex-jock build, square jaw lines, stern expressions, short hair, that sort of thing. Roleplay is a plus, too. It's deep seeded. My first JO fantasies revolved around Coach Trainor, the baseball coach at my middle school. I pumped out load after load fantasizing about him, until I got to high school and had new stars for my fantasies: Coach Kendrick, Coach Samuels, Coach Parr. Then I had a year-long affair with my water polo coach. Mark Edwards. Tall, built, ex-UCLA water polo star with perfect teeth and California-kissed blond-brown hair that was thinning as he approached 40. My first sexual experience and way better than the fantasy even. The man felt guilty after each time we had sex, but he knew how much I desired him and that made him keep coming for more. We tried it all, sexually, or at least it felt that way. But it was when I sank my bone into his ex-jock hole that I knew I'd found what I really loved. Dadfucking. The whole experience of topping Coach was mindblowing. It became my obsession, and Coach Edwards indulged it. Every day after practice. Until his guilt got the best of him, and I grew aware that I'd be off to Stanford in the fall. Maybe Mark spoiled me for other men, I don't know, but my real problem lately is that I'd run out of Coaches to fuck. I'd met a lot online from the tri-state area, at least the ones open to bottoming, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. Then there were the tourist coaches. In NYC there can be a lot... in town with their families, chaperoning school trips, or just single guys getting out of their small towns. Going online to find some man-on-man action while they're in the big city. But it was winter and tourist season had quieted down and with it my supply of fresh coach meat had dried up. However, as I ushered a nervous Mitch Dennison into the apartment, I had a feeling my dry spell was about to break. "Nice place," he said, hands in his jeans pockets and big broad muscular shoulders hunched. He's almost my height at 6'4" and like me has a water polo player's build, only a little fuller with age. His thick hair is prematurely silver-gray, and I knew I'd have to keep him from my buddy Mac, who has a real thing for Silver Daddies. Especially ones as hot as Mitch. "Thanks," I said, tossing my gym bag down. We'd just come from a match in the recreational water polo league. Dennison was our team's coach, an ex-Olympic player now 50 and I'd been crushing out on him for the last month a half. The guys often tease me for going almost exclusively for Coach Daddies, but guys like Dennison give me a major bone. "Can I get you a drink?" I asked. "A beer if you have it," the guy said, his hesitance starting to melt into the encouraging smile he'd often give me after a particularly strong performance in the pool. "Sure thing, Coach," I said with a pat on his back. I always called him that, it was my kink, and I got a rise out of it. Besides, Dennison never corrected me. I was starting to think he liked the deference. "Have a seat," I told him. "Make yourself at home. My roommates are out tonight, it's just us." I wanted to put him at ease. When I returned from the kitchen, beers in hand, I sat right next to him on the couch. I don't think he was expecting that, and I felt his body tense up a little. Especially as I put my arm around his shoulder, like we were on a date. Maybe in a way we were. The unspoken idea that had been behind Mitch coming back to my place after the match. "Glad you could come over, Coach," I said, my hand gently squeezing his beefy shoulder muscle. "Been wanting to hang out for a while." "Yeah?" He asked, a suspicious look in his eyes. "A young buck like you, I would have thought you'd have better things to do." He continued, "You know, younger guys to hang out with. Hell the ink has barely dried on my divorce papers." I gave a reassuring wink and lifted my hand to touch the side of his face, caressing the short silvery hairs above his ear. Yeah, I was putting on the moves real fast, too fast, but damnit I was horny and I'd been thinking about tangling with Dennison for too long now. "You kidding, Coach? You're one hot daddy. I've been wanting to swoop in and make a move before some other guy does." He blushed. Here was a middle-aged man with years of sexual experience, but not with men, and certainly not with impetuous younger men. It was like he wanted it but was afraid it wasn't going to happen. I leaned in and kissed him. That made him moan excitedly, and he returned my kiss, his soft masculine tongue dueling mine. Fuck yes, this is where the man's experience came through. The hot fucker could kiss, all right. I was smiling big when we broke it off, but not as big as Coach. "I wish I'd had the guts to do this stuff back in my 20s," he said. "Wouldn't have gotten married like a dumbass." "Maybe I can help you find ways to make up for lost time." My fingers were now along his belly, tracing their way gently underneath the hem of his polo shirt, daring to touch his shaved stomach beneath. Mitch melted into my touch and craned his head toward mine again. "I'd like that Heller," he said with a sly grin and we kissed again. Longer this time, almost romantically. I maneuvered us so we were horizontal on the couch, me on top, us making out, grinding our hard crotches against one another. The man seemed to love it as I licked and kissed up the side of his thick neck, tonguing his ear and exploring the spot behind the lobe. "I know we haven't talked about it, " I said, "But I want to fuck you, Coach. Real bad. You up for that?" I ground my dick into his groin and planted my mouth back on his. His burly arms circled around my broad polo-player back. "I... I don't think I'm ready for that, Ryan," he said. "Tried it a couple of times and it hurt like hell. I'm sorry." He seemed sad and nervous telling me, which was endearing in a way. I gave him a quick kiss. "'s OK Coach. But I'm strictly top. Any way you can help me out?" He nodded. "I can suck your dick." His voice was less unsure, and there was lust in it. "Good man," I patted his head and leaned up. I sauntered up his torso until my crotch was a foot in front of his face. He grinned as I unzipped my jeans and pushed down my briefs. My long angry hardon stuck up from my groin. A drop of pre-cum flicked from the tip and landed right on his forehead. "God, you're big, Heller," Dennison sighed. I patted his full head of silvery hair and spread my palm on top of his head. "Don't worry, sir, you'll like it." I raised my hips up so my stick was nearer to him. "Wanna start with my balls?" I was glad Matt and Jim were out that evening, but then again it wouldn't be the first time one of my roommates walked in on some daddy giving me head. Mitch groaned as he leaned up and licked my exposed nuts. He must have liked the taste because after a few tentative licks, he started going at it, really tongue my ballsac and getting into it. It felt great, but after a few minutes, I wanted more. I slowly pulled my hips back and ran my prick up and down along the man's extended tongue. When I plopped my dripping head into his mouth, he was ready for it. I so wanted to just shove my cock into the man, he really got me going, but I checked myself, letting his head do the bobbing as best he could with the angle. He was struggling to do it, but eager. I decided to give him a break, pulling out. "Why don't we take this to the bedroom Coach?" "Yeah," he growled, giving my stick another lick. "I'd like that Heller." The first thing he noticed when we entered my room were the two oversized posters on the wall of Greg Louganis. One was him in his younger Olympian days, the poster I'd had that one since I was a young teen. My father probably thought Louganis was just my sports idol, but every afternoon I'd come home from practice and beat my meat staring at the diver's near-nude form contorting in the air. It was porn that never got old, still doesn't, in fact. Though these days I usually find my eyes drifting over to the other, newer poster I have whenever I have to pound my meat: Daddy Louganis, posing, proud of his fifty something body, bare and mostly smooth except for a skimpy speedo. As a young teen I'd hoped to become a diver, too, but quickly I grew to a strapping 6'5" broad boned and muscular jock build, so I opted logically for water polo. "Hah, I see you had a crush," Mitch said, as he looked up at my poster. "You know, I met him back in '88. Cool guy." He had an expression like he knew he shouldn't be bragging but couldn't help himself. I didn't blame him. "Wow, that's awesome," I said. "Yeah, I was a little bummed I couldn't go into diving." "Be glad," Mitch said. "Diving's all you eat, drink, and breathe if you compete. It's worse than water polo." I set my beer down, stepped up and ran my hands along Dennison's strong, still very toned chest, feeling the firm thickness beneath his polo shirt. There's DILF bodies and there's ex-athlete perfection like Dennision had. "This body takes a lot of work," I observed appreciatively, my fingers played along the bulk and I got a kick out of seeing goosebumps form on the older man's arms. "Probably too much work. Trying to fit time is hard stuff," he gulped. "In case you haven't figured out," I said. "I'm into older dudes." Dennison let out a little gasp of excitement, which made me smile. "Dudes like you," I continued. Dennison smiled. "Damn, you're hot. I've been trying not to stare at you the last three months." I stepped back and peeled off my shirt. "Stare away, stud," I taunted, casually letting my muscles flex for his gaze. My dick still stuck out of the open crotch of my jeans and though it had softened a bit as we walked back to my room, now it was roaring hard again, feeding off my coach's admiration. I stood there and Dennison crouched down between my thighs and started showing me his cocksucking abilities.... not bad for a relative newcomer to guy-on-guy action. I got off on seeing the muscular middle-aged coach daddy bobbing up and down at my crotch, slowly working me up toward orgasm. And I was able to look up at the oversized picture of Daddy Louganis across the room in front of me. Hah, I thought, two of the hottest daddies at once. I wasn't ready to nut yet, though. I pulled Dennison up and kissed him hungrily while tugging his shirt up. He lifted his arms and allowed me to strip him. It was a trip to feel his lumbering water polo conditioned muscle compliant to my lead. Mitch has a great body all around but the show stopper was his chest. Powerful, big, and lean all at once. Like a lot of water polo types, he keeps his shaven, and my fingers couldn't resist playing with the chest muscle before tweaking his full daddy nips playfully. "Damn nice body, coach," I said quietly and proceeded to undo his khakis, pulling them down. Then his boxer briefs. He started to assist me but I gave him a nonverbal gesture to let me do it. He was practically panting as I took off his socks and his watch and his dick twitched excitedly as I ran my hands along his backside. It was a thrill to be in control of this older, more built man. My hands now circled around and caressed his smooth chest. I knelt down now, face to face with his amazing ass. Make no mistake, it was a dad ass, heavy and showing the slight downward sag of his age. But there was a hard firm gluteus two, making two big round hocks for me to touch and admire. Here, he was hairy, though the hairy was dark brown, an amazing contrast to the shaved back and legs. The fur tickled my face as I leaned in, eager to plant myself right in that glorious man crack. Only Mitch stepped forward and his hand stopped me from going forward. "I'm serious, Ryan, I'm not up for that." He'd gone from hesitant to firm in his refusal. "Let's just jerk off." "Can you at least suck me off?" He shook his head. "I want to get off at the same time. Come on, let's stroke off." I respected his wishes as much as I so wanted more that night. I nodded, and got the lube out. We lay side by side, examining each other's bodies and jerking in tandem. It didn't take Mitch long, spurting his seed all over his smooth torso. The sight got me off, too, and I aimed my cock at him, spurting my seed all over his body. "That was great Heller," he said, though without a postcoital kiss. Dennison was all business after shooting his wad, getting up and wiping off with Kleenex before getting dressed again. "See you at the pool next week?" "Yeah, Coach," I said, reclining back on the bed and taking one last look at that magnificent body before it was all covered again. **** I was in a grumpy mood the next morning. Wondering how and why I'd fucked it up. Then realizing that maybe me and Mitch, my dream Coach Daddy, weren't compatible in the sack. I heard noise from the kitchen of the apartment. Matt was undoubtedly up early and off to his Sunday morning workout with Wes. His Connecticut daddy had put the kibosh on their affair recently and Matt had responded by hitting the gym harder. Maybe I needed an outlet for my frustrations. As I entered the kitchen I saw Jim's Staten Island daddy there. Tall like me, Nick was wearing only a pair of Jim's Indiana Univ. rugby shorts and a matching ballcap. His back was big - muscular and bulky - with a dusting of graying hair on the shoulders and thicker through the small of his back. The real asset was that ass, which looked obscenely big in those shorts. I could see why Jim was wild about this dude. Especially since the man was busy making breakfast. "Hi ya," he greeted me. "There's some coffee for ya, Ryan," he said. "I figured Jim deserved some breakfast in bed after his performance last night," he chuckled. It was funny. Here was the guy who a year ago was too shy to come by our place when Matt or I was around. Now he didn't seem the least self conscious about his and Jim's sexual relationship. Or the sounds they made in the bedroom, sounds that could be clearly heard down the hall. "Damn, I need a man who'll bring me breakfast in bed," I said. Nick looked at me with amusement. For a gruff guy, he could have a teddy-bear approachability in his face. "You gotta keep a guy around long enough for that, Ryan." "Yeah, I'll work on that," I wise cracked. Nick was right. I'd dated a couple of guys, but nothing long term. Mostly it was a string of coach hookups and roleplay fuckbuddies. I saw Nick pull some bacon out of the oven, perfectly cooked. He piled an extra helping on the plate. "Damn, Jim must have given one hell of a fuck last night." The beefy daddy grinned. "Ryan, you don't know the half of it." "I think I heard half of it last night," I teased. "Maybe you should get your fucking ear from the bedroom door, then," he shot back. Nick could bust my balls, but I loved that he was open about sex. We didn't really flirt, not really, but we enjoyed volleying back sexual banter from time to time. He set the plate on a tray with orange juice, coffee, and a plate of fruit. Carefully he picked it up. "You know, if you want to get what you want out of a man, you gotta treat him like a king from time to time." I wasn't even sure what he was referring to, but it seemed like strangely useful advice. I watched Nick walk away, thinking how amazing it would be to tap that daddy ass. No, I wasn't going to make a move on Jim's guy, and Nick clearly had eyes on my roommate alone. But after my disappointment with Dennison, my mind was on fucking that morning. I poured my coffee and grabbed a breakfast bar and flipped on the TV. I checked my email. I actually had some work shit to deal with on Sunday morning. Maddening, but that was my job. I'd fired off the last of my urgent emails when I heard noises from down the hall. Loud, deep, rhythmic, somewhere between moans and grunts. Nick Amato was getting fucked this morning. The idea had my morning wood raring back and ready to go. I opened my app and scrolled through, looking to see if there was any new meat, or a guy worth contacting for a repeat. Nothing jumped out at me. The hot daddies on there were all tops that morning. Just then a message came in. "Hey man. I know you go for older men, but I gotta say you're really fucking hot." Sometimes guys could play games and it was refreshing to see the direct approach. The sender was 25, two years younger than me, and really good looking. He had a familiar face, but I couldn't place it. Almost like a second-tier Hollywood star. Cute and masculine at the same time. My profile was indeed up front about my preference for bottom daddies and my coach fetish. My initial impulse was to give a polite brush off, a thanks but no thanks message. But something about him intrigued me. And the fact a guy this good looking would be hitting on me was flattering. I sent back a simple "Thanks" He sent back a message. ":) If you ever consider doing a guy my age, I'd love to be your power bottom. Have you drill me however you fucking like." This dude was speaking my language, especially given my mood that morning. "Be careful what you ask for man. I like to fuck hard." "All the better. Seriously, wanna come over and use my hole this morning?" I decided then and there that I did. We messaged back and forth and soon I was heading over in a Lyft to a Midtown high rise. I didn't know his name, but he clearly did OK for himself with a nice one-bedroom with a nicer view. I didn't admire the apartment much, though, as he answered the door in just a jock strap, that looked incredible on his trim but muscular body. "Glad you made it," he said. "I'm so fucking horny." He stepped up and gripped my crotch, massaging my erection before undoing my jeans. "The pictures don't lie," he said. "You're even hotter in person. Nice dick, too," he added, pulling my cock out before crouching down to take me in his mouth. He wasn't kidding about the power bottom thing. Dude hoovered my dick in full deep throat strokes. He took me to the brink three separate times before backing off my dick completely and letting my prick twitch in horny excitement. "Who taught you how to suck cock like that?" I asked on the third time. "My dad," he winked. Damn, the dude was into roleplay, too! Even though I was used to taking the son role in a good RP session, I figured it would be fun to try it the other way. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him onto my cock again. "Well, suck Daddy's dick, son." He blew me some more before I decided I wanted his ass. Bad. "Stand up, son," I nudged his face off me. "Daddy's gotta fuck." "Yes, sir," he winked, standing up and turning around to lean against the couch for support while I got in behind. Those buns were round and ripe and perfect. As much as I love daddy ass, Power Bottom Dude had a textbook porn-star ass. I guided my cock into the crack and felt the slickness of the lube already there. Power Bottom Dude started humping his ass against my rod, eager to get it inside him. I was eager to be inside him. I was nervous the hole would be loose and worn, but fuck it was tight as I pushed inside. Gripping my bone as I bored in. "Fuck!" I hissed. "Daddy likes that hole?" Power Bottom asked. "Yeah, son," I grunted. "Nice fucking hole for Daddy's dick." I pushed all the way in. This guy was experienced at taking cock, and pretty soon we were off the races, fucking hard, me pounding in, him bucking back on me with each thrust, like he couldn't get enough. "Fuck me, man," he urged in a voice that wasn't deep but was smooth and masculine. "Oh yeah," I said, language ability rapidly leaving me as I was overcome by the sensations of his hole on my cock. My universe was being narrowed to that connection and my need to nut. Finally I held tight and powered the last stroked out, right in his eager ass, spurting good and hard. The load I'd wanted to fuck into Mitch Dennison, the one I fantasized about fucking into Nick Amato. My ejaculation complete, Power Bottom leaned back up, resting his toned back against my chest as he stroked his own load out, with me still buried in him. When he was done, I dismounted and got a pleasant surprise to see Power Bottom Dude back on his knees, cleaning my cock off. It was submissive and hot as hell. We hadn't kissed and we didn't after fucking, but as I tucked back into my jeans, the guy introduced himself as Brett and said he'd love to take my cock again. Any time. I told him my name and said he was a great fuck and that would be hard to resist a repeat. "Then don't resist it," he said with a smile that was enchanting. *** I did see Brett again. He and I became fuckbuddies, in fact. Once a week, usually, since that's about all our work schedules allowed. It was after our third hookup when I had to say what had been nagging me. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere," I said. He had a knowing look on his face. "30 under 30?" Then it clicked. We'd both been featured in the same issue of a New York magazine's profile of up-and-coming young professionals. I was the city politico, Brett was the rising-star sports reporter. "No shit?" I laughed. He chuckled with me. "Yeah, I get embarrassed about that sometimes, though I guess it's good for the career." The next week, instead of a fuck date, we met for dinner. Brett wasn't my usual type, and I had assumed I'd be dating an older man. But the sex was scorching hot and I figured I should give a try dating someone my own age. I was surprised how well we hit it off. We were both career-focused, we both were looking for a serious relationship but not in a rush to get one. We had the same sense of humor and liked a lot of the same TV shows and movies. So after that first date, we didn't fuck. Instead I walked him to his Midtown building and kissed him good night in front of his door. Something between a peck and a make out kiss, it was perfect. From then on, we were dating. In another month, we were calling each other boyfriends and hanging out with each other friends. The other guys in the Dadfuckers Club razzed me for dating someone younger than me, but it was all good natured ribbing. Brett and I still saw each other only once or so a week, our workaholic schedules not allowing much more. Though lately we've taken to a mid-week quickie where I come over and rail his ass, we each blow our load, then I head home. Things were going well. So well, in fact, that I hadn't seen a curveball coming. It was a date night, and we were lying in bed after a nice long screw. Lazily Brett played with his hole and the cumload that had begun oozing out of him. "This might be my favorite part," he said, examining my sperm on his fingers before pulling them to his mouth to suck them dry. "You're such a perv, it's great," I said. "We're pretty perfect together, huh?" Brett nodded, but then got a stone-cold serious look on his face. "Ryan, we probably need to talk." "OK," I said, pretty much knowing where this was going. "You want to break up?" "No," he shook his head, "But maybe you will. You're not the only one I have sex with." I felt a little saddened, but I tried to be suppress that feeling. "I can't say I'm happy about that news, but we never did have a conversation about being exclusive." "We didn't," Brett agreed. "That's why I wanted to have a conversation." "You want to be exclusive?" I asked, afraid of the answer. I hadn't realized how much I'd fallen for Brett Miller. Truly fallen for him. He shook his head. "I can't Ryan, I'm sorry." He paused and continued, "There's someone else in my life. My father. We've actually been having sex since I was 18." Whoa. "You serious?" Brett didn't seem to be joking but you never know. "Yes. Completely. Dad's been an important part of my life and will continue to be. I thought you should know before things got too serious between us." I exhaled. It was a horny idea all right, the idea of Brett making out with his father. I realized then I knew little about his background other than the basics: his upbringing in a suburb in upstate New York, his parents' divorce, his college years at Syracuse. "So you want to call things off between us?" "No, I don't," he answered. "But Dad and I are going to continue to have sex, and I need a boyfriend who's OK with that." It was just as crazy to hear him say that as it sounds to write it. "It's a big curveball," I said, "But I'm pretty open minded. I can see..." Brett smiled, and his reaction of relief warmed my heart. "Really?" That reaction encouraged me in my new-found open-mindedness. "Like I say, we'll see. I mean, it's weird, right? But kind of hot." "Crazy hot," Brett said. "You can't even describe what it's like to get fucked by your own dad." He saw the horniness in my face, as I reacted to the idea. "If you're up for it, I'd love you to be part of it. Meet my dad." "Yeah?" This was all going very fast, but Brett's hand was on my cock now, which had hardened again. Completely. With an impish grin, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. A couple of taps and he pulled up a picture of his father. "Here's Dad," he said, showing it to me. "Fuck! Your dad's smoking hot," I said. He was too. Strong barrel-chested build, a little bit of a gut but not very much. Strong arms and shoulders, total ex-jock build. "Isn't he? Try growing up with him." "Didn't you say he was a history teacher?" "Yeah. And the high school football coach." I felt light headed from the lust coursing through my veins. Coach Miller was my dream fuck, hands down, and here my boyfriend was offering a threesome with him. Brett laughed at my visible reaction. "I take it you want to meet my Dad then?" "Um, yeah," I said. I rolled over on top of Brett, kissing him hungrily. "In the meantime, I'm gonna fuck his son." I crawled on top of Brett and worked us up for round two. *** I had a whole drive to upstate to get second thoughts, but I surprised myself by having none. I was about to be a third wheel to an honest to god incestuous relationship and I couldn't wait. My heart fluttered a bit as we pulled up to the lake house, tucked in a wooded area. The area was cool and clean and excitedly I saw Mr. Miller come down the steps to greet us. He was wearing just a snug gray T-shirt that showed off his meaty build and a pair of khaki shorts. He looked even more amazing in person than in the pictures Brett had showed me. "You made good time," he said. He greeted Brett with a hug and a brief peck on the lips. He turned to me and stretched out his hand. "You must be Ryan. Brett's told me a lot about you." I shook his hand and marveled in his strong grip. His light brown eyes bored into mine, erasing the awkwardness of the situation. "I've heard a lot about you, too, sir." The man smiled. "I bet you have." He kept his gaze on me, then broke it by looking over at his son. "Why don't you boys get settled and I'll pop open a few beers for us. Unless you want something else?" he asked turning back to me. "Beer sounds, good, sir." Brett and I went to drop our bags in our bedroom. Now alone he asked me if I was OK with everything. "Very much," I smiled. "Dad's hot, right?" "Pictures don't do him justice," I said. I was starting to feel light headed by my attraction to him and the whole situation. "I can't wait to see you guys do it." Brett smiled and met me in a hot kiss. "That's gonna happen. So glad you're OK with this." I was still nervous and unsure how this was going to go down. I could see some of that nervousness in Mr. Miller's eyes, too, but outwardly he seemed to project a natural confidence and experience. I wondered what kind of man would have sex with his son at 18, but as I wondered I felt myself getting turned on. I sucked down my first beer pretty quick, but was starting to relax more as we made small talk and Brett's dad asked me about myself, what I did, where I grew up, that sort of thing. Finally, Mr. Miller looked at me and grinned. "Man, Ryan, you're a tall dude. I gotta say my son has really good taste." Oh fuck, those words made my heart pound. "Thanks sir," I replied, not knowing how to react. "Great body, too," he added now leaning back on the deck railing and sweeping his eyes up and down my form. "I should probably get back in shape like you boys." Almost involuntarily, I interjected. "You're perfect, sir." He was too. Meaty ex-jock coach build. That middle aged spread making him look even hotter. I looked over and Brett was smiling at my apparent lust. Mr. Miller was smiling bigger. "Maybe it's time for us to get better acquainted," he said. "Oh yeah," I replied and we stepped toward one another. Lips meeting. I was kissing my boyfriend's father while my boyfriend looked on. I'd had some hot sex before, but this was surpassing even my times with Coach Edwards. "Nice," the man said as we finally broke for air. He turned to Brett. "He's a good kisser, son." "Oh yeah," Brett agreed, "But not as good as you." And just like that father and son were kissing in front of me. Soft romantic kiss at first then making out excitedly. It was the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen. Now I was being drawn into their pairing. Kissing Brett, then his dad, and back to Brett. Mr. Miller grabbed my wrist and guided it down to his crotch, where he was fully hard. He wasn't as hung as me but the fact his dick seemed to perfectly match Brett's in size and shape was a huge turnon. I groped him while I made out with his son and felt the man's kisses along my neck. "Let's take this inside boys," he said. We were all grinning, excitedly, as we followed the man indoors and back to his bedroom. "Hopefully you men will be sleeping in here with me this weekend," he said as he peeled off his T-shirt. His body was muscular and thick and medium hairy. I watched as Brett got to his knees in front of him and started undoing his shorts. "Goddamn," I grunted as I watched Brett start blowing his dad. Right in front of me. I started peeling off my clothes but didn't dare touch my prick. I didn't want to go firing off my load, as bad as I wanted to. I think Mr. Miller was similarly turned on and concerned about cumming too soon because he nudged Brett off his cock. "On the bed, son," he said quietly. Brett scrambled up and stripped off his clothes. As he got on all fours, Mr. Miller kicked off his shorts and fetched some lube from the end table. "Don't worry, Ryan," he said, turning back to me, "We won't leave you out. I just gotta fuck my son first." "Oh yeah," I croaked, getting up on the bed next to the two for a closer look. Every bit of power bottom nature Brett had shown for me was on display as his father's dick entered him and started fucking away. I watched, thrilled, as he held Brett's hips and started pounding that ass. "Never get sick of this," he said to me and our lips met in a kiss. We broke it but his eyes stayed fixed on me as he fucked Brett. His lusty expression gradually turned into a smile as our eyes conveyed mutual lust and excitement. "Brett says you like to top," he finally said. "Yes, sir. I do." Mr. Miller nodded down to the lube that was lying on the mattress. "Why don't you grease up and do me?" he urged. My hands were trembling I was so turned on. But I managed to flip the lid and squirt a good coating onto my ramrod hard prick. I didn't dare touch it as worked up as I was. Instead I got in behind Mr. M. He slowed down his thrusts enough for me to line up and push in. He wasn't as eager a power bottom as Brett so I had to work my way in slowly. "That's nice, Ryan. Push that cock right up in me. Aw yeah." He ran his hands along Brett's back. "You doing OK son? I want Ry's cock in me and then we're good to go." "Doing great, Dad," my boyfriend replied. I shoved the last inch in and reached around to hold the coach's strong body. I felt his abs contract and his hips move back and forth between my cock and Brett's ass. Mr. Miller was driving this train and I was A-OK with that. "God that dick feels great," the man said. "Gonna make me cum. Gonna make me nut inside my boy." "Oh yeah, Dad," Brett urged. Hearing that, I humped harder, pulling my torso flush against his strong bare back. "That's it Heller," he growled. "Punch my hole. Yeah right, there. Gonna make Coach cum." That did it. I fired several powerful shots into the man's ass as he entered his own orgasm, right into Brett. I'm not sure when Brett fired off but he did. And we connected with a hot kiss as we untangled, while his Dad showered off. My boyfriend seemed pretty spent after the drive, adn the beer, and the sex and when I got done with my turn in the bathroom he'd conked out for a nap. I laughed and slipped on some shorts and went back out on the deck, where Mr. Miller had a beer waiting for me. He popped it open and handed it to me as I joined him, looking out on the lake. It was beautiful in the late summer sun. "Thanks, sir," I said, taking the cold can. He winked. "After that fuck, I think you can call me John." He relaxed in the chair, shirtless and wearing just a pair of football practice shorts from his high school. I'd just nutted but the sight was making me chub up already. "OK, John," I laughed. Something was on my mind. I brought it up. "So... I guess Brett told you about my coach fetish, huh?" John shook his head and took a swig of beer. "Not exactly, he showed me your profile." I was surprised. "You mean my Grindr profile?" He nodded, matter of factly. "Yeah, we kind of picked you out together." It was obvious in retrospect, and everything clicked into place. They'd sought out a guy who would be a suitable partner for both son and father. John smiled while he watched me figure it out. "I insisted Brett go off and date, but he kept sending me profiles before he'd even contact a guy for a hookup. When we saw yours,we knew you were the one." I felt dumb but also happy things had panned out like this. The light bulbs were going on now. "And you wanted a top?" He gave me a sly grin and said. "Let's just say you know how big a bottom Brett is." "Crazy slutty power bottom," I admitted and immediately worried I shouldn't talk about his son that way to him. John laughed. "I wasn't gonna put it that way, but yeah. My son's a crazy slutty power bottom. And, well, Daddy has other needs sometimes." With that he slid down his practice shorts and kicked them off before spreading his legs and lifting them back. "My son says you're a better asseater than me." I set down my beer and got out of my seat. "Yes, sir," I replied, crouching down and starting to lick the dad hole I'd fucked just a half hour ago, while he laid his thick hand on my head to guide me. I felt his hole relax as John - Mr. Miller - really got into me rimming him. My tongue traced his hole and teased the pucker. I had worked it inside him when I felt it. The first trickle of my semen into my mouth. I about came right there, so I removed my hand from my cock. "He's real good isn't he Dad?" I heard Brett's voice. He'd woken up and rejoined us. I pulled back to see father and son kissing softly. John noticed I'd stopped and looked down at me. "Wanna taste mine?" he asked. Then he pulled Brett in front of him, spreading his son's cheeks for me to dive in. I did, and almost immediately tasted the father's salty semen seeping out. I dug in for more. Suffice to say that by the end of the afternoon I knew this crazy threeway relationship was gonna work just fine.