Date: Thu, 3 Sep 2015 14:07:20 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Morning After

Greetings, dudes. Been stroking my dick to the amazing stories on Nifty
since 1999, so I figured it was about time to do my part. I've been writing
dirty family stories on my Tumblr – a4f101.tumblr.com – for a few
months now, and I'm sharing them here with you too. There's more there, too
– more stories, from me and my likeminded buds – so come check it
out. Hit the Story Time link at the top for more than 250 dirty tales, all
by me, with the pics that inspired them.

You can see this story, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/110075840449/

This story is an original work of fiction, copyright me 2015. I own it, and
all legal rights to it. If you're not of legal age in your jurisdiction to
be reading it, do us both a favor and come back to it when you are.

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*****

I had not been this hungover in a while, and I was hurting. I wasn't the
only one in the house feeling that way, and as I ran the coffee maker, I
replayed in my aching brain the crazy, intense night we were all recovering
from. The night of my graduation party, which was where most of the damage
had been done... but more than that, what had happened when we'd come back
to the house, which was where the serious shit had started. The more I
recalled, the more the pounding pulse in my head was echoed in my cock,
rising steady and thick in my underwear. I choked down a multivitamin and a
glass of cold water, then poured two cups of coffee - thick, black, strong
- swallowed my nerves as best as possible, and headed into the living room.

He was sitting up against the front of the couch, rubbing his eyes
groggily, his thick dark hair all over the place, but he still looked
fine. Damn fine. Strong, beefy chest dusted with the right amount of thick
dark hair, big sexy muscular thighs, crammed into a pair of grey CK briefs
that I knew weren't his. And that face, rugged, masculine, his dark
three-day growth showing hints of steel gray, just like his temples. I'd
been crushing on him for a long time, and last night had been the
culmination of several fantasies of mine, plus a few I hadn't even thought
of. I wondered and worried about how much he'd remember of it all.

"God damn," he muttered, voice thick and rusty with sleep. "Feels like they
backed a horse trailer over my head, then filled my mouth with the
manure. Ah, hey, thanks buddy."

He accepted the coffee gratefully, and with a few sips, he was on his way
to healing. I fetched him Tylenol, a vitamin and a glass of water, and
leaned against the doorway, sipping my coffee, watching him swallow each,
then give me a slightly less pained smile.

"Hell of a night though, bud," he said. "Damn proud of you. And your
friends are a fun crowd."

"Thanks, Dad," I said with a smile. "You seemed to be having a blast. So,
uh... how much do you remember?"

I waited nervously, pretend-casually looking around, sipping my coffee,
anything I could do not to look at him as he pieced it together. He smiled,
chuckled a bit as he reviewed the long night, and then his face froze, and
I saw him look down at the briefs he was wearing. Like I said, not his, and
though they were a size too small, they seemed to fit him perfectly,
showcasing a tube of man dick that was half-hard with morning wood. He
looked up at me slowly.

"These... these aren't mine," he said slowly. Dawning recognition on his
face, the pieces falling into place.

Stumbling in the door here just around midnight, how his tight, proud,
drunken paternal hug had turned into a clinch, into a kiss, into hot boozy
breath on mine as we stared at each other with lust and longing, and our
tongues had met, deeply, repeatedly. A long, hungry makeout in the hallway,
then staggering together back to my room. Our clothes flying all over as we
undressed each other, down to our tented underwear. My palm along the bulge
of his big thick shaft, how he grunted with pleasure and kissed me even
deeper, as I rubbed his thick length until he began to leak into his boxer
briefs. How he'd returned the favor, grinningly tracing along my own big
bulge outline in my grey briefs, the ones he had on now, before skinning
them down my muscular legs and swallowing me whole.

The way he'd bent me over my rumpled bed, burying that sexy, stubbled face
between my glutes, and gone to town on me with lusty, drunken fervor,
blowing my mind with his skill at eating ass. Making my cock leak all over
my sheets, before he'd leaned over me, big muscular hairy chest against my
back, kissing my neck, rubbing that huge dad cock up and down my cleft, and
taken my big young son dick in hand. The sexy, loving things he'd whispered
in my ear before rolling me onto my back, pushing my thighs up and sliding
into me, thrusting slowly, masterfully, fucking me like none of the few
dudes I'd been with to that point could ever hope to replicate. And more of
those searching, searing, incestuous kisses as he fucked a great big load
out of me. Then let me suck and stroke his own load out of him, coating my
tongue and face and chest with it, and how hungrily he'd kissed me, sharing
his paternal seed with me back and forth as we rolled together in a sweaty
tangle of muscles, cocks, limbs, lips.

How we'd laughed, and traded softer, less heated kisses, languid and long
and intimate, and then both grinned up when Bryce appeared in my doorway,
just as wasted as we were, but with a comically shocked expression on his
big, handsome football player face. How willingly and quickly he'd stripped
down and joined us in my bed, sparking off round two. And then, after Dad
had disappeared to the kitchen looking for a beer, and apparently had
passed out here on the floor instead, how me and Bryce had whispered
urgently about what had just happened, about how my Dad had just fucked us
both, and sucked our cocks, and kissed us, and the taboo excitement of it
got to us, and we managed to rally for a third round together. I guess
whiskey dick wasn't a problem for us, but then, we were young and strong,
and it had been an intense, crazy night.

Now, I saw that Dad remembered all of it. I didn't know what to say - all I
could do was give him a nervous smile.

"Hey, Dad, I mean... it just sorta happened, right," I eventually
managed. "We were shitfaced. We can forget it ever happened, really."

"Forget it?" He looked incredulous. And yes... hard again. In my
briefs. "Are you fucking kidding, son? You and me... the things we
did... and oh god, Bryce too, shit..."

I went over, crouched down, and rested my hand comfortingly on his big
shoulder as he buried his head in his hands.

"Dude... Dad... yeah, it was crazy... and yeah, kinda fucked-up... but
shit, we all enjoyed it, didn't we? And fuck, the things you said about
me... about us... well, the stuff I said back was true."

He looked up, not exactly comforted, but easier. Almost hopeful, maybe.

"But... Bryce... your brother..."

I nodded. "Him too, Dad. Him and me both, for years. Hot for you. And for
each other. Been fooling around since we were teens."

He looked like he couldn't believe any of it, as if the dried cum of his
sons that still streaked his stomach wasn't tangible proof. Like the taboo
secrets we'd whispered in his ears as we worshiped his big, sexy body in my
bed last night weren't too vivid to be just fantasy. And just then, with
his usual perfect timing, big, blond Bryce, my beefy stud of a little bro,
shambled into the room, crammed into just a pair of trunks, with his usual
grin on his face. He rubbed his eyes, stretched, his magnificent middle
linebacker body on full display, then flopped down on the couch beside us.

"Morning, you hot fuckers," he said in his sexy deep voice. He reached out
to ruffle Dad's hair, then pulled me to him for a long, deep, searching
kiss. Obviously, my bold little bro was very cool with what had happened.
As my cock rose all over again in my underwear, it was clear that I was
too. After a few minutes watching us, Dad disappeared from the room. We
heard the water running in the bathroom as my bro and I looked at each
other, wondering if we'd just fucked up a possibly amazing opportunity. But
then the big stud reappeared, our sexy Dad, with a shit-eating grin, a
raging bulge in my briefs, and minty fresh breath that he shared with us as
he kissed us both.

"Fuck it," he whispered as we grabbed hold of each other, rubbing muscles,
nuzzling his warm skin. "Guess what's done can't be undone..."

"So we might as well do it some more, huh Dad?" Bryce grinned. We all
laughed as we made our way back to bed, and slowly, steadily, incestuously
fucked our way out of our hangovers.