Date: Fri, 12 Feb 2016 11:33:40 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Spartan Comes Home

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/112633629239/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

He was heading out as I was coming in, and I was kind of stunned, at a loss
for words. Him and three of his best buds, all dressed like... Spartan
warriors, I guess? Big, built young men, thick muscled, manlier than I
remember any of them being. Especially Eric. I figured he was going to grow
up into a thick-ish furball like me, but I don't remember looking that
manly at 23. It was probably the beard he'd cultivated since starting grad
school, and the fact that we seldom saw him, even less than when he was an
undergrad down in Texas.

The lingering impression I had was a whirl of beef, fur, muscle, his big,
charming smile as we greeted each other, the respectful, proud yet slightly
embarrassed way his old buds greeted me as they all passed. My wife must
have seen my confused expression, and laughed.

"A costume party, apparently," she said, rolling her eyes. "They certainly
grow up fast, don't they?"

I'm pretty sure she'd enjoyed the sight of Eric's buddies, all pumped up
and proud of their big young bodies. I couldn't blame her. Just those few
moments had probably given me spank-bank material for months to come. I
dropped my gym bag in the laundry and headed up to shower the sweat off,
and the whole time, my dick was thick, insistent, as I replayed those few
moments. The muscles. The hair. Their handsome faces, burly bodies. And
especially my son's. Fantasies I'd spent years repressing coming back to
the fore. I wanted to stroke out a furious load, but I held off, intending
to save it for Shelley.

Things hadn't worked out quite the way I'd intended. I'd drifted off in
front of the TV, beat from a long week and the evening's workout, and
Shelley had taken herself off to bed. I woke up and it was nearly 1. I
shambled my way into the kitchen for a glass of water, maybe a little
snack, and was about to put together a sandwich when I heard the door
open. Slow, heavy footsteps. I looked up, and Eric was coming into the
kitchen, smiling lazily, eyes half-closed, high or drunk or likely both.

"Heyyyyy, sorry for the noise, Dad," he grinned, leaning against the door
frame. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

I chuckled, shook my head, put the top slice on my sandwich, tried not to
look at him. What was he wearing... boxer briefs under that thing? Yeah,
looked that way. Shit. Gotta not look, gotta not look... that old mantra
I'd said to myself for years, since he'd thickened up in his teens, started
to get chest hair, become a sexual creature. An object of desire. I
couldn't let myself backslide, here.

"It's cool, buddy," I said, clearing my throat. "Just fixing a late-night
snack."

"Aw man, that looks gooood," he said, eyeing my sandwich hungrily. I cut it
in half, slid the plate over the island to him, watched him grab half and
wolf it down in about four hungry bites, making contented sounds the whole
time. Then smiling at me, reaching for my glass of water, taking a long
sip. We eyed each other kind of companionably as he drained half the glass,
set it down on the top of the island between us. Smiled at me. Swaying a
little. A moment or twenty passed before I broke the silence, anything to
distract me from the thickness of his body, the manliness of his fur, those
big, rosy nipples. Kid was damn near a carbon-copy of me, and I felt a mix
of pride, lust and shame.

"Good party, kiddo?"

"Fuckin' great party, Dad," he grinned, then blushed. "Oops.. sorry to
curse. But yeah. Good time. Great seein' everybody again. They loved the
costumes!"

"Yeah, I'll bet they did, buddy," I chuckled. "Surprised you came home
alone. You know you can, uh... entertain if you want to, we don't mind."

"Nah," he said, shrugging easily. "Same ol' girls as high school, just
older and colder, y'know? Not my scene anymore, anyhow."

There was a distinct twinkle in his eye. His big hand came up to lazily
scratch his thick pec, brushing fingertips over his exposed nipple. I tried
not to lick my lips. My cock was going to betray me any minute now, and I
was thankful for the island between us, covering up the growing mound in my
sweat pants.

"Not your scene now, huh kid?" I asked, kind of huskily. He
nodded. Smiled. A direct look between us, one that crackled with a certain
energy. He leaned in, picked up my water glass, and drained the rest off,
then slowly came around the island to refill it from the fridge
dispenser. We were a foot or so apart, and I was nervous. Exposed.

"Never really was, to be honest, Dad," he murmured, handing me the refilled
glass. I drained it, our eyes staying locked. That electricity, stronger
than ever.

"You think I look good in this costume, Dad?" he said, his voice low,
insistent, loaded with something. I took his invitation to look him up and
down, and nodded. Despite the water, my throat felt dry.

"Damn good, son," I managed huskily. "You've grown up into quite a man,
buddy."

He grinned wider, looking proud, pleased.

"Just like you, huh Dad?" he said, stepping a little closer. "Getting big,
thick, furring up... getting manly. Just like you. Like I always hoped I'd
be."

My brain felt disconnected from my body, like I was a passenger in my own
flesh, as I watched my hand reach up to touch his pec, saw how he pressed
it up and out for me to do so. Inviting me to. Palm brushing that big,
proud nipple, seeing his eyes half-close, licking his lower lip slightly,
smiling more. The crispness of the thick young fur foresting the
spectacular terrain of his beefy, muscled body. The proud, prominent bulge
in his boxer briefs, growing even as I looked at it, pressing up and out
from under the thing he wore over the top of his underwear. Just from a
glance, I knew he was hung like me, big and thick, proportionate to the
rest of his body. Hung like his old man.

The kiss just seemed to happen, the taste of whiskey and a trace of weed on
his tongue as it slipped inside my surprised mouth, as our hands came
around to clutch each other's big, round asses. Right there in the kitchen,
making out with my son, all man now, but still my boy. Several minutes of
kissing, softly grunting, stifled moans, remembering that my wife, his
mother, was asleep just upstairs. When we finally parted, his eyes shone
with that particular excited gleam they got.

"Let's go downstairs, Dad," he murmured against my lips, taking my hand in
his and pulling me towards the basement stairs. I was powerless to resist
him, following his big, muscled ass as he led the way down to the rec room
and his bedroom beyond.

A little while later, we writhed naked together on his big bed, my mouth
latching onto his big, beautiful red nips, suckling and chewing like I'd
fantasized about for nearly a decade. His big, uncut cock throbbed and
leaked against my own hairy stomach as he moaned quietly, softly,
beautifully, clutching my head to the meaty swell of his fur-trimmed pec.

"Love you, Daddy," he whisper-moaned, and I moaned around his juicy nip in
reply. "So long, wanted this so fuckin' long..."

I came up and kissed him, feverish, deep, wet, hungry. Showing him how
long, how badly I'd wanted it too. I clutched the thick, hairy power of his
beefy thighs, spreading them apart, slipping between them as he laid back
on his bed, exposed his sweaty pits for me to sniff and lick. We might only
get this once chance. I wasn't going to waste it. I went for it, went for
everything I'd denied myself all these years, told myself was wrong and
twisted and perverted.

The deep, rich, sensual moan he gave when I slid my cock up inside him,
between those beefy, powerful, fur-lined cheeks, made it all
worthwhile. The way he rocked back and fucked himself on me, the beautiful
flex and jiggle of his meaty glutes. The experienced way he fucked me back.

"17," he panted spontaneously as we found our rhythm together. "Coach
Preston. Wanted him, but wanted you more, Dad. Imagined it was you doing
it, taking my cherry. Blew the biggest fuckin' load..."

I had to kiss him, kiss him hard and deep, making up for all that lost
time, those missed opportunities, as I found myself unloading inside him. I
stayed inside him, wrapped around him, as I reached around to stroke his
big young cock off, only extracting myself form the hot, sticky tightness
of his ass to lay down and receive his seed. He blasted hot, thick and
salty across my tongue, and pulled me up to kiss him feverishly, wetly,
before I could swallow it. It was the hottest thing that had ever happened
to me, and I'd had my share of adventures in college. We collapsed into one
beefy, sweaty heap on his bed, grinning, laughing breathlessly, staring at
each other.

"Damn," he chuckled after another slow, soft kiss in the afterglow. "I
should come home and dress up for you more often."

"Fuck that," i growled, sliding my sticky paw over his firm, meaty, furry
man's body. Could already feel myself hardening again. "Just come home, and
forget about dressing for me. Just so long as I get to undress you, big
boy."

He laughed as we kissed again, rolling over and on top of me, and yeah,
turned out I was definitely up for a second go-round with my big sexy
Spartan warrior.