Date: Tue, 30 Apr 2024 04:03:44 +0000 From: Jack Pearce Subject: Jaxon seduces his dad -- 6 This series is a fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, involving consensual sexual relations between men who are closely related. It is intended for adults only. This story is in no way an endorsement of such relationships in real life, and this author adamantly rejects any justifications for such relationships or activities in real life. Copyright, Jack Pearce, 2024. Nifty is a free service that depends on your donations to survive. Please give generously at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html You can email me at JackTomPearce@hotmail.com with any constructive feedback or ideas. I'd love to hear from you. Jaxon seduces his dad - chapter 6 Dad's thoughts about the camping trip If somebody had told me a couple of weeks ago that not only would I have a gay son and I'd be accepting of his lifestyle I would not have believed them.... In fact it was still pretty hard to believe that a young guy as masculine as my boy could be anything but straight. By the same token if that very same person had told me that I'd be experiencing sex with another man, let alone my own son I would have taken them out with a single punch... I'd been born straight, always had been and always would be. In my world there had never been anything quite like the sensation of a woman's lips around your dick or the sheer magic of the moment when you push it deep inside a wet and willing pussy.... but now I knew different. Those four days camping in the wilderness had changed me from the man I thought I knew so well into a man I didn't know. A man who was in love with his own son. So, I must have been naive thinking everything would go back to normal after Jaxon and I returned home from our camping trip. Either naïve or stupid enough to be in denial. Normal for me was having the place to myself, going out at weekends, or weeknights if I was feeling horny, and looking for pussy. `Normal' meant wandering around the house naked after a shower, enjoying the sensation of my swollen dick bobbing and swaying. I was even vain enough to sometimes strike a few poses in the mirror: each one designed to show off my cock to maximum advantage as it flexed and leaked strings of precum... Normal meant watching porn and jacking myself off on the couch as I imagined it was me on the screen, that it was my cock churning that open red pussy into a molten mass... hell I was even contemplating buying one of those sex dolls I'd read so much about. Not that I thought they'd be as good as the real thing I was watching but I was damned sure that lubed up rubber hole would be better than nothing. So maybe that was plain stupid to think us living together after all that had happened between us could ever be same as it had been when he was a kid. How could it be? We were different people now, very different people. Yes we may have rediscovered our old father / son bond but even that was different. Darker. He was no longer a child and the fact that he was gay, no matter how much I accepted it now, was always going to be an added complication in our lives. At least that's how I tried to convince myself I thought. Yet the bottom line was that we had carnal knowledge of each other... a knowledge of each other's bodies, the same bodies we would now both be seeing everyday... knowing that we shared a knowledge that a father and son should never have of each other... the scent of each other's sweat, the warm slime of each other's seed and that most intimate sight of all... each other's cum face. That moment when a man is lost to everything except the animal sensations of his own body.... But it was more than that and I knew it. And having my son around all the time made me realise just what that `big thing' was.... I knew I had crossed into an entirely different world of sexual arousal, the taboo world of incest. And whether I accepted it or not I was now sexually attracted to my own boy, As I've said, all my life I'd been straight, resolutely unashamedly heterosexual, ever since that day I'd fucked my first pussy... the thrill of the first time my cock had parted the lips of wet juicy vagina had never left me... hell I could still remember it... even after 50 years. Back then I was 14 and with just enough hair around my dick to think of myself as a man. Marge Henson was 37, maybe even a little older, with a reputation around town as hot as her amazing figure...not to mention a weakness for young newspaper paper delivery boys.... and I was one horny delivery boy who couldn't wait to tell his buddies he was no longer a virgin. And yet now? I wasn't 14 anymore. And I wasn't alone. I was a grown man who'd enjoyed being jerked off, not just by another guy, but my own lad. Perhaps if we'd have stopped at that, you know, somehow drawn a line under it by passing the whole thing off as just one of those things that happen when your miles away from anywhere and you've both had a few beers things would have felt different. But we hadn't. Yes, every time I thought back over those four days in the wilderness that `but' was always there. Knocking away at my thoughts like a persistent hammer blow. I know Jaxon had said `it's just sex' and maybe to him taking another guy's dick in your hand and making him cum was just that, sex. Or maybe he'd sensed my guilt and confusion and was simply trying to make me feel better about things. But making, hearing and seeing your own father shoot his load right next to you... having your own dad's hand working your cock... even sucking him off and swallowing his cum... surely that was beyond taboo even for him? And yep, there it was. That damned `but' again. Because deep down I knew that the sex I'd had with Jaxon was better than anything I'd ever experienced with a woman... So maybe Jaxon was right? ...maybe only another man really knew how to pleasure another guys cock.... the way Jaxon had, slowly drawing my foreskin up and down, lightly stroking my exposed helmet with his thumb, varying the speed and grip on my shaft... hell I had to admit my boy had wanked me off better than I did myself.... but no matter how mind-blowing that experience had been that didn't make it right... not for me anyway... ...or did it? You know even long after Jaxon had left home I'd still go into his room, remembering how I used to tuck him in, read him a story, listen to his moans about the maths test he'd flunked or share his joy in the goals he'd scored at soccer or the times he'd clocked on the track... Only now I realized that whilst the memories may have still been there, something had been missing from that room for the last ten years... something that was there now... the scent of my son's body... the dent on the pillow where his head had been... and seeing the crumpled sheets it was all too easy to allow myself to imagine him lying there naked... recalling the smooth lightly muscled body I'd held as he'd humped and came on top of me, the sparse triangle of soft hair at the base of his dick that I'd felt the first time I'd let my fingers explore his body... the smell of his skin as I'd nuzzled his neck, the feel of his warm butt writhing back against my cock as it left trails of semen in the heat of his crack... the scent of my boy that now filled his room and could turn my cock from soft to solid in a heart-beat. Even the sight of his wet footprints on the bathroom floor made me think back to the times we'd towelled off naked side by side when he was barely a teen, neither of us embarrassed by our bodies and if I'm honest even then I'd been secretly proud of the way he was growing up into a fine-looking young man. What father wouldn't be proud that his young son was already showing signs of inheriting a fair-sized dick that so closely resembled his own? We'd even joked about having father and son foreskins that bunched into snouts at the tip. Now we were back home things were different. We showered separately and kept the door shut. I don't even remember when we stopped being so open. Maybe it was those teen hormones kicking in, needing privacy to enjoy the new joys of masturbation. I mean did he even know he was gay back then? And if so was he watching my naked adult body in a different way, a way that aroused in him feelings that left him ashamed and confused? Feelings that even he sensed were inappropriate without fully understanding why. So was it possible that even at that age there was more than just soap and water behind those seemingly spontaneous teen erections? I remember once, when Jaxon was about 11 or so him making a comment about the size of my `willy' as he called it. At the time I just supposed that when you've got a dick that's not much more than a boiled shrimp anything bigger and surrounded by a dense bush was always going to arouse some degree of curiosity if not envy. As usual I'd brushed it aside with some comment about he'd be like me one day when he was grown up, that that was what puberty was all about... turning from a boy into a grown man. Stuff he already knew as I'd never been the sort of dad to shrink from those tricky conversations... but maybe that comment had been more, a statement of his own sexual awakening... the voice of his young mind on the cusp of leaving his childhood behind and becoming a sexual being in his own right? And now, as much as I tried to tell myself what had happened between me and my son on that trip was just `one of those things', deep down I knew it wasn't. I knew the guilt I'd felt after Jaxon had wanked me off the first time was more about ME than anything else... It took me back to my one and only boy on boy experience... One afternoon me and my best buddy Gerry got into talking about girls, like who had the biggest tits in the class, stuff like that, when from under his bed Gerry produced a porn mag he'd stolen from the bottom of his old man's sock drawer. And although it was nothing like the stuff you see online these days those pictures of grown women in the raw were enough to give two 13-year-old boys raging hard-ons. Gazing at each other's tenting shorts, who, we giggled, had the bigger dick? Him? Or me? So acting on a dare Gerry gets a ruler and we both unzip and drop our pants.... and our underwear... both standing proud because each of us already had the light sprinkling of pubes you'd expect a boy to have at that age...and I won! By an extra half inch! And boy was I proud of that! And then the unexpected happened. Without saying anything Gerry wrapped his fist around my 3 and ½ inches and started beating me off... no finesse... just straight up and down, up and down, both watching my foreskin as it slid backwards and forwards, my increasingly slimy knob squelching in his hand... a hand that moved steadily up and down until I could feel that familiar tightening in my balls, the tingling in my knob, and that was it... I let out a loud grunt and shot what we both thought was a very impressive load over the rug in his room... Yet when Gerry asked me to do the same thing to him, man I was out of there before you could say `flash'. You see I knew we'd done a gay thing and it was wrong. Two hot showers later and I still felt like I was the lowest of the low... as if everybody would look at me and know I'd shot my load in another boy's hand. And somehow, that night, after Jaxon's expert touch had aroused my cock to such mind-blowing frenzy that long buried 13-year-old boy had reared up inside me and I knew I'd gone somewhere with my son that I'd always sworn I would never go again and yet the following night I was back there for more... Now Jaxon was here living under the same roof and every time I saw him my mind went back to those four nights we'd shared... As soon as we got back to the city I'd hoped he go off to some bar and find somebody else, a genuinely gay guy who knew how to pleasure him in ways I knew I never could. And I knew I'd be doing the same, except that I'd be trawling my favourite bars in search of a pair of big tits and a wet and willing pussy. I felt I needed to reassert my own heterosexuality like never before. Nothing more. Nothing less. And any piece of tail that got in the way would do the job. But it didn't. Each one left me with an emptiness and I knew what was missing... the intimacy I had briefly shared with my own son. Was that why when I thought of Jaxon in the arms of another guy I felt an irrational jealousy? Afterall I was sure I could never be the lover my son wanted and deserved, or could I? Then again, maybe the fact that he was out with other guys meant just what he said, `It's just sex dad' and he didn't want me at all, and I was the one being stupid enough letting my mind get bent out of shape for nothing. After all there had been plenty of opportunities for us to have sex again since we'd come back to the city. Yet there'd been nothing. Not one comment, not even a hint. In fact, there seemed to be a distance between us that had never been there before. In the days long gone it had been natural for us to touch if we'd passed close to each other, my big hand lightly on his shoulder, perhaps his smaller one brushing my hip.... But now? When we found ourselves physically close we kind of stepped away from each other with a mumbled apology for being in each other's way, when I knew all I wanted to do was pull him close to me and relive that moment by the campfire when everything I'd ever believed in was lost and we'd kissed for the first time... and not just a kiss but the taste of my own cum on his mouth... to hear the sounds and share once more the sensations of his own rising climax muffled by my hungry lips as he panted and moaned into mine. So maybe that first time would be the last? Maybe the one time he took my cock in his mouth was the last intimate moment I was ever to share with my son. If so could I live with that? Could I go back to being the man I thought I was two weeks ago? Well, I knew that no matter how often I asked myself that question the only answer I needed was right there in the agonising pain of seven inches of cock desperately seeking release from behind my zipper. Yet when I was alone all I could think about was the way Jaxon's lips and tongue had driven me beyond ecstasy with the best blow job I'd ever had... Not that I was any stranger to being sucked off. At 15 it was my first time and hers. I was too horny and too young to even think about telling her I was about to cum, and she was too inexperienced to recognise the signs. So I'd cum, and how! And once she'd stopped coughing and spluttering she called me every bad name under the sun, and we never spoke again. But my boy knew the signs all right; knew exactly when to slow down the minute he felt my cock swelling even harder in his mouth as my moans grew louder. He knew how to keep me on the edge of cumming with little expert snake-like flicks of his tongue in the pronounced `V' at the back of my knob... He knew exactly the right moment to let me thrust up between his lips before I finally grabbed his head in my hands, forcing him down further and further until I felt the tingling curve of my helmet press into his willing throat and my sperm exploded, wad after wad, flooding his mouth in the most glorious orgasm I'd ever known. But still that scent drew me back into his room.... and when I did I felt like I was trespassing. I knew why I was there, and I also knew that I shouldn't be but I couldn't help myself. I knew I was betraying his trust by being in his room without his permission but I had the overwhelming urge just `to find out a little more about him' as I told myself. I saw his laptop on his bedside locker and even knowing that what I was doing was wrong, I opened it and my hands shook as I discovered there was no access password. I held my breath as I guiltily scanned his search history. And there it was, my own son's porn video history. Even though I knew I was in the house alone I still shut the door before sitting down at his desk, like a teenager furtively planning to masturbate whilst his parents slept. And I opened the first file I saw.... I had no doubt about the images I was seeing, or the effect the sight of two men having sex had on my cock. The more I became engrossed as they kissed and caressed the more I realised I wasn't just watching two men getting off with each other. I was watching an older guy (50+) with a much younger one (18+), seeing what Jaxon would have seen... the equivalent of him and I making love. And the more I watched, the hornier I became, the harder and wetter my dick got until it felt it was going to rip its way through my jeans unless.... unless I released it... Their kisses, the contrast between their bodies, the father-type older, chunkier, hairier, his imagined son, younger, smaller, smoother... the sounds they made as they masturbated each other as they lay side by side... and then... Every vein in my dick pulsed as I watched the father kiss down his son's body, pausing briefly to suck his cock before... FUCKING HELL! The father whispered something, the lad pulled his legs back exposing his tight pink hairless pucker and his dad got the message, diving between his cheeks, spreading them with his big fingers and feasting on that twitching butt-hole.... I watched him driving his big wet tongue through the tight ring of muscle... and my cock pulsed as I heard his son yell, `DADDDDDDDDD!' Man! I could feel my own precum oozing over my fingers as I began to stroke my cock, sat there with my jeans first around my knees, then around my ankles until I finally had to kick them off completely.... feeling the weight of my balls as they rose and fell in time to the slow regular motion of my fist... The boy moaned louder as I watched his father slowly push his finger into that tight wet hole...a hole that was suddenly more desirable to me than any pussy... a pucker just like the one I knew must be hidden between my own son's firm cheeks... finger fucking his way deeper and deeper as his boy whimpered and writhed on the bed. I noticed the counter still had 10 minutes to run...surely they weren't going to.... were they? JESUS they were! The father knelt back, a big grin on his face, slapped his sons ass and the lad grinned back, rolling quickly on to his stomach, his legs spread, as his father moved between them, his hands on his sons hips raising those smooth cheeks a little off the bed before nudging the engorged head of his cock into the heat between them... I could feel my cum starting to churn in my balls as I watched him open that pink butt-hole with his slimy knob, heard the boy's whimpers grow louder as they turned into cries of `DADDDDD', heard the fathers low moans as that big dick sunk deeper and deeper, pausing with half its length buried, then lunging again, balls deep in a single thrust... his lad squealing in a mix of pleasure and pain... My hand began to work faster, my foreskin squelching as I drew it backwards and forwards over my helmet.... moving in time to that thrusting dick on the screen... the images almost a blur in my mind... THAT father and son... THIS father and HIS son... as I tried to edge... tried to time my own rising orgasm with that of the guy on the screen, the guy that looked like just like me... the father who was fucking his own son.... no not just fucking but making love. By some miracle of self-control I managed to edge until the father pulled his son on to all fours, and holding his hips, slammed into him over and over again, sliding him along the length of his dick... the boys screams getting louder, more frenzied with each thrust... the father's grunts less human, more bestial, the sound of a man on the verge of breeding his own flesh and blood. He came. I came. The boy yelled `DADDDDDDDDDDDDDY' and shot his load over the bed as two fathers pumped their seed into their two son's butt-holes... one real... one imagined. I was still buzzing, still drawing out the last sensations of my climax when the screen showed a close-up of that just fucked pucker, red, part-open with a bubble of pure white cum leaking from it. Then the camera cut to a long passionate kiss as they held each other face to face... like the incestuous lovers they were... There was a moment of panic when I realised that over 50 years later I done the same thing I'd done that afternoon in my buddy's room... I'd shot a great rope of cum over the rug... only this time it wasn't Gerry's rug, it was my own sons... And it wasn't the frantic tugging of a 13-year-old hand that had brought me off this time but the thought of making love to Jaxon... I mopped up the best I could, pulled up my jeans and stuffed my dwindling dick back into my briefs... feeling guilty and confused... Maybe I could be the lover my son deserved after all.... But, and there was that `but' again, was that really what Jaxon wanted?