Date: Thu, 15 Nov 2012 14:36:36 -0800 (PST) From: Todd Carlos Subject: Vice, Chapter 3 Don't forget to donate to Nifty. Vice 3 – Brian Grady Sunday morning I woke up horny but Dad wasn't in bed with me. I thought of the night before and the way he'd fucked up into my ass as I rode him. I could practically feel the way that big cock of my father's had split me open. And the quickie in my Cousin Lisa's bedroom had been something else. I rolled over and grinded my piss-hard cock against the sheet. The tacky feel of lube and dried cum in the slot of my ass didn't feel very sexy so I got up and headed for the bathroom. After a shower I felt better and found my dad in the kitchen. He was wearing just a ratty old pair of plaid boxers and reading the newspaper at the table. I mumbled a good morning and snatched up his empty coffee cup as I passed by. I got him a refill and a cup for myself. As I set the fresh mug down on the table Dad took my hand and pulled me down for a quick kiss and a, "Thanks, Son." It didn't mean anything at the time, hell he barely looked away from the paper. I took a seat and we talked about me heading over to Mom's house. I had the idea to start something but ended up taking off for breakfast at her house where I knew I'd find better food. Ten minutes later I was there and my mom proceeded to spoil me with a huge meal, complaining the whole time about how she hadn't seen me very much. Her new boyfriend, Bob, was there but I ignored him. It was easy because I had so much other shit on my mind. I was still thinking about the way my dad had kissed me that morning, something about it driving me to obsess. I'd seen him do it to my mom thousands of times growing up, catching her hand as she gave him something with a kiss and a thanks. I'd seen him do it to the dozens of women he'd "dated" since the divorce, women who wore too much makeup and I figured were closer to my age than his. It was strange to be on the receiving end of such a familiar move with so much implied casual intimacy. It left a queasy feeling in my gut the more I thought about it. If anything Monday was even worse. Between classes I texted Dad that I'd be spending the night at Mom's. The more I thought about it the madder I got. I wasn't my mom or one of his stupid bitches and still..., it made me feel like such a dumb kid because there was a big part of me that wanted my father as my boyfriend, or something. The other part of me couldn't even name what it wanted. I told myself to stop, to let it go and live in the moment, in a few months I'd be leaving for Colorado. Besides he'd told me right from the beginning not to let the sex fuck with my head... I unlock the door of my dad's house and push it open with my hip while I struggle to hold my gym bag, my duffle bag full of clothes with my lacrosse stick wedged between the handles and keep my backpack on my shoulder. It's my weekend with him, per the custody agreement, even though I'd been eighteen for a month and could stay wherever I wanted. Even so, I'd never have missed a weekend with my father. From the living room I could hear the television and whatever game was on. I would've called out to him, let him know I was home, but someone spoke before I could and I didn't want to interrupt. "So, I'll have it back by next weekend." I recognized the voice of my Uncle Paul, who's not actually my uncle. I hadn't seen him in awhile. "Keep it as long as you need it. I won't be home anyway. There's a bust - we've been planning this sting for the last two months. It's huge." My dad's deeper voice carries out of the room. "Yeah? Thanks, Jay, no worries. So, where's this place at?" Uncle Paul asks. "Out by the highway past Seventh. It's called Bucky's, a gay strip club. You wouldn't believe the shit that goes on there." I quietly put my stuff down and close the door without making any noise. My dad never tells me any of the interesting parts of his job and I want to hear what I can. "Oh? Like what?" "The strippers turn tricks in the back. They have a couple rooms, sorta' like closets, back there. We suspect a number of them are under eighteen." "How many of you are going in?" "Ten on the inside, twelve uniforms outside to help with the clean-up." Uncle Paul whistles in amazement. "Damn, how many you expecting to bust?" he goes on to ask. "There's ten guys working the rooms between dances, the manager who's kinda' like a pimp and as many johns as we can catch in the act. Me and Shore've been casing the place for a month." "Must be real hard for you to go in a place like that and pretend you're gay?" Uncle Paul asks in a loud hushed voice. He sounds almost angry and there is this strained silence coming from the other room. I'm listening to all this and the idea of my dad getting a lap dance from a dude is making me hard when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I forgot to take it out of silent mode after school which is good and bad. Good `cause it's not making a sound but bad `cause it makes me jump and one of my bags hits the door behind me with a soft thump. The voices in the living room go quiet so, thinking quick, I reach back and open the door just to close it loudly. "Dad! I'm home," I yell out, fishing my phone out of my pocket. It gives me something to look at as I walk in so he can't see the guilt on my face. I shift the duffle so it's covering the tent in my pants. "What's up, Bri? How was school and practice?" I look up to face the two of them. They're sitting on opposite ends of the long sofa and looking over at me. "It was cool. Hey, Uncle Paul." I tuck the phone away even though I haven't looked at the text message. "Brian," Uncle Paul says. He's already up and moving towards me. I haven't seen him in a few years and he looks good, the same. He doesn't hesitate for a second and hugs me tight, in spite of all the shit I'm carrying. He was always around as I was growing up and it only occurs to me then how strange it is that he hasn't been around at all recently. "It's good to see you, Brian." "You too, Uncle Paul. It's been awhile, huh?" He lets go of me and holds me out at arm's length. "You're looking good. Growing up quick." There's something there in his face that I can't read. It's almost like he's sad or regretful. An awkward pause settles over us and I'm not sure what to say. I pat the duffle covering my crotch and say, "I'm gonna put my stuff away," and turn around for the stairs. "Pizza'll be here any minute," my dad yells from behind me. I'm already halfway up the stairs. In my room I throw all my shit on the bed and pull out my laptop. Because I'm dying of curiosity and still hard as a rock so I look up Bucky's. The website, when I find it, is one page with a picture of two young guys in briefs with their arms around each other. Above the image is the hours the place is open and in the bottom left is a phone number while the bottom right shows a tiny map with their location. That's all there is and I'm a little pissed there isn't more, I mean, it doesn't even say what the place is. I bookmark the page and close the computer to head downstairs just as the bell rings. Dad's waiting for me to eat and Uncle Paul is nowhere to be seen. I sit on the couch and help myself to a slice of pizza. It's the opposite of Mom's house where we always sit at the table and dinner is always at six. "Where'd Uncle Paul go?" I look at Dad when I ask and he's scowling. I can't help noticing that he looks especially hot today in his jeans and an old faded gray t-shirt. His dark hair is a little messed up like he's been running his fingers through it and it suits him. "He had to go. He was just here to borrow some of my tools." "I haven't seen him in forever, Dad. He didn't want to stay for dinner?" "He's busy, Brian. He's building some cabinets or something and had to go." "Were you guys fighting?" I only ask because there was something going on earlier. Until the divorce I'd seen him practically every day of my life. "Just drop it, Brian." His attitude pisses me off but I let it go. We watch TV for awhile but don't talk and eventually I go up to my room and work on homework. My lacrosse coach has this motto and it has always served me well. It has more to do with getting down the field as a team but it applies to everyday life too. So on Tuesday I make this plan. I tell my mom that I'm spending the night at Dad's but I know he'll be at work. They don't talk unless they have to so I'm pretty safe. Plus they trust me because I've almost never fucked up. I get to Bucky's at seven. I have my ID out to prove I'm eighteen, even if just barely. I pay the twenty dollar cover and get a bracelet put on me, so the bartender will know I'm not twenty-one, and a ticket for a free drink. When the guy at the door lets me in I go down this long hallway past the bathrooms to a big room. There are a bunch of ratty couches around the sides, against the walls. In the middle of the room are what look like old theatre seats in rows and grouped around them are a few small tables with regular chairs. Over on my left is a stage area with two poles from the floor up to the ceiling and a horizontal bar that hangs down from the ceiling. The AC is pumping and it's kind of cold inside. And dark. There aren't many lights and most of them are black-light. I glance around and see that there are only a few other guys sitting down. On the stage a guy is dancing against one of the poles in a thong. He's really skinny and his muscles make me want to laugh. An old guy in the front row is totally perving on him, which is vaguely creepy. I have this urge to run out of the place but my need is so much greater than it. I've never known another gay guy except "Frankie the fag" who's in my class at school. I've never picked on him like some of my friends but I've never talked to him either. He's kind of effeminate and definitely flamboyant which makes me nervous and ashamed, a little guilty, whenever I even look at him; so I mostly just ignore him completely. Some of the skinny guys wandering around remind me of Frankie but I don't feel all those strange emotions, probably because they're complete strangers. There are other guys wandering around. A few are hot and a few look like the kid on the stage. I can tell they work there because none of them have a shirt on but they're wearing jeans or baggy shorts. One is really hot and I catch myself staring at him. He's leaning over the little bar where they serve drinks. He has on really threadbare jeans with a rip in the ass that shows a smooth portion of his cheek. If he has anything on underneath you can tell it must be of the anal-floss variety. The guy tending bar shoots his eyes towards me and hot guy looks over, smiling. I can't help smiling back even though I'm blushing. I've made it this far and I won't back down, not yet. My goal is to hook up with a guy. I've assessed the situation and now my objective is to get with this guy. He doesn't even look back at the bartender guy, just pushes away from the bar and heads straight for me. "Hey, man," he says when he gets close. He's the same height as me, built like me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I shove mine in my pockets to hide how nervous I am. "Hey," I say. His hand feels warm and heavy on me. I wish I hadn't eaten. He has on some really strong cologne and his teeth shine really bright in the black-light. He walks behind me and his body brushes up against my back and ass. It takes everything in me to keep on breathing. "You looking for a dance, kid?" He asks me right into my ear and I can smell the mint on his breath over the strong scent he's wearing. It makes a little shiver run up my back. But he called me a kid and it sort of pisses me off because he can't be much older than I am. It helps because I'm not quite as freaked out as I was. "I heard you, uh, give more than dances." I turn to face him as I say the words and take my hands out of my pockets. He takes one and puts my palm on his smooth chest. "Yeah? Then what do you really want?" I'm so close to getting what I want that I can taste it. "A-a blowjob?" It snuck out with the lilt on the end, making it a question. "Sure, I can do that. You want to give it or receive it?" "Receive." At least I'm sure about that. "How much is it?" "Fifty," he says without blinking an eye. I have a hundred in my pocket that my grandparents sent me from Florida for my birthday. I nod and hold his eyes. He takes my hand from his firm chest and uses it to lead me to a door beside the stage. On the way by he exchanges a nod with the bartender. He leads me to a little room in a corridor full of doors. There's a small cot inside and some shelves that are screwed into the bare wall. He closes the door and turns to face me. "Is this your first time with a guy?" I wonder how he knows but I figure it must be obvious. I nod and he continues. "You're better looking than most I get in here. I'll blow you for thirty if you take off your clothes and let me touch you." This is going so much easier than I thought. For a second it makes me worried that something will go wrong. "Yeah, I can do that." He watches me and I'm not sure what to do next. After a minute he sticks his hand out and I realize he's waiting to be paid. Feeling stupid I reach into my pocket and pull out the money to give him two twenties. He stuffs them into a lockbox on one of the shelves. "If it's good you can tip me another twenty," he says matter-of-factly as he reaches for the bottom of my t-shirt. He lifts it up and I help him get it off. It's barely out of the way before he drops to his knees in front of me. He watches me with a smile as he begins to unbuckle my belt. I lean back against the door and my cock gets hard. Finally, finally it's going to happen. The guy pushes my pants and underwear down to my ankles and my dick springs out. He takes it in hand and fists it a few times, studying my cock, while his other hand skims over my chest and abs. His eyes look less blue in the dim light but he's still really good-looking. My heart rate speeds up in anticipation while another guy touches my dick for the first time. "You've got a big cock," he tells me then puts his mouth on it. It's hot and wet in there. He sucks on the head and slides his lips down about halfway, a firm hand working the shaft. I put my hands on the door behind me and tell myself not to cum. It's useless because after three good pulls the orgasm builds up and erupts from my cock. I had no idea I was so close and it takes both of us by surprise. "Shit... sorry." I jerk my hips back and a shot of my cum hits him on the face then the chest. I watch helplessly as the rest of my load spews out onto the floor. "It's usually polite to warn a guy," he says with a smile after he's spit my cum into the palm of his hand. I'm glad he's not mad. "Sorry," I mumble for the second time. And I was sorry, a little embarrassed for cumming so quick, but mostly I was already thinking about how I was going to go home and jerk off thinking about him. I think of the way my hand had felt on his bare chest, his hand on my cock, his too-strong cologne, his blue eyes looking up at me and most of all his mouth on me. I'm already burning the images into my head. "It's fine, bro. You said it was your first time with a guy, right?" he asks me while he stands up and walks over to the other wall. There are some shelves there with random things on them. "Yeah," I admit for the second time. He pulls what looks like a baby-wipe out of a container on the shelf and wipes my cum off his face and chest. He's looking right at me while he does it and grabs another wipe to clean off his hands. "Don't worry about it, the second time will be better. Hold on a minute and you'll be ready," he starts to say but he's interrupted by a gentle knock on the door of the little room. Someone on the other side softly calls out, "Chad, you in there?" The guy, who must be Chad, gets this panicked look on his face then smiles and shakes his head. He rushes over and pushes me off the door. He opens the door, just enough to look out, and says, "I'm with someone but we're done. Give me a minute, okay?" The guy on the other side says something I can't hear and Chad responds with, "No, it'll only take a minute. Don't go anywhere." Chad closes the door and he's smiling wide. I hadn't realized what a handsome guy he is. "It's one of my regulars, you have to go." He picks up my t-shirt and hands it to me by pressing it against my chest until I take it. I'm still standing beside the door with my pants down around my ankles. "God, I normally wouldn't rush you out of here. I swear I was even going to wait for an encore. But this guy's special. I like him a lot." I fumble to pull up my pants and underwear with the t-shirt in my hand, feeling awkward. Chad fixes the bedding on the cot even though it's perfectly made. "There's just something about this guy. He makes me want to get fucked, you know?" I was pretty sure he wasn't talking to me so much as talking out loud. "He just has this way of taking over and... I always thought I hated it, that it was only something I could do for money." He looks over at me and realizes I'm dressed. He shakes his head a little and ushers me to the other side of the door to open it. I walk out and the big guy on the other side steps back to make way for me. He's wearing a baseball cap and looking down at his feet so I can't see his face but his body looks good. Big and beefy with muscles under a worn t-shirt. I turn and walk down the hall. Chad is right behind me, and gushing, "I didn't think I'd see you tonight. I'm so glad you came." For the first time he kinda' sounds like a fag. Just as I turn to head into the lounge area I glance back. Chad is wrapped around the big guy, kissing him. As I'm about to look away he pulls back from the kiss and his eyes meet mine. My father, looking right at me. His eyes widen in recognition and he pulls away from Chad. His lips part but no sound comes out. I'm not sure what it is that's moving in me but I turn and run. Literally, I run out of Bucky's and don't look back. I hop into my car and race out of the parking lot like I'm being chased. Without thought I make my way to the highway, still in shock. It settles in slowly that I'd just seen my dad kissing another guy, a guy who'd just given me my first man-on-man blowjob. The mouth that had just held a load of my cum was kissing my father. And Chad had said he was a regular, that he liked my dad fucking him. On auto-pilot I'm headed toward my mom's house, where I'd grown up. As the facts settle in I turn around and drive to my dad's. I let myself in and sit in the dark on the sofa, trying to come up with some sort of plan. Wondering what to say, what he'd say; if he'd try to deny the whole thing. I wasn't there for very long, ten or fifteen minutes, before Dad gets home. I still haven't thought of a thing to say or do. "Brian," he calls out as he lets himself in. He rounds the corner and turns on the living room lights, blinking at me. "Oh, hey...," he starts and stops. We watch one another, waiting to see who would speak first. "What were you doing there?" he asks, breaking the silence and seeming almost mad. "Getting a blowjob. What were you doing there?" I answer then ask the question without meeting his eyes. "I was there for work, checking out a tip." He says it with a straight face but I'd seen him kissing another guy. For a slit second I wonder if I somehow have things wrong but there's no way. Would he really try and play it off, I wonder. "And since when do you go to a place like that for sex?" He sounds angry but I'm getting pretty riled up myself. I stand to face off with him, hands loose at my sides. "He told me, that guy Chad, he told me that you've fucked him... that you're one of his regulars." His face goes pale and his jaw ticks, somewhere between pissed and scared. "I asked you a question, Brian." His expression resolves into just plain angry as he speaks. I'm not exactly scared, sort of anxious would best describe what I was feeling. I see no way for this to end well. I decided to lay all my cards on the table. "I'm gay and I don't know any gay guys so when I heard you telling Uncle Paul about that place I decided to go there and check it out. I met that guy and he sucked me off." There, question answered. My turn, "What were you doing there?" "I wanted to warn Chad not to be there this weekend." My first thought is that his actions are a little unethical, which is stupid. He's been fucking the guy, of course he can't let him get arrested. All this immediately followed by a thought that takes all my breath away and it blurts out of my mouth. "Fuck, are you gay?" Despite everything I've learned the idea still strikes me like lightening. "I'm not gay, just sometimes...," he pauses to visibly calm himself down. Several deep breaths later, he asks, "Listen, what did your mom tell you about the divorce?" "Nothing, she's never said a word. Even when I asked. Wait, did she catch you with a guy or something?" The whole thing seems so surreal. I can't believe we're having this conversation. "Yeah, but it's not like you think, Son." He spreads his hands out before him, palms up. "It was with a guy I'd known for a long time and we'd been doing stuff together before I ever met your mother. I never wanted her to know. I," I hold up a hand to cut him off. "Then you're bi?" I ask, speaking before he's finished talking. My brain is quietly imploding. Little pieces of information begin falling into a pattern, stuff I've seen or heard over the last two years. "I guess so, if you have to have a label. But it's not," and again I cut off his bullshit. "It was Uncle Paul, wasn't it? Jesus Christ, it was Uncle Paul." So many things are starting to make sense. The divorce, Uncle Paul's sudden absence and Dad's transfer to Vice, suddenly all fit together. I collapse back onto the sofa, my mind running a million miles a second. At least I don't have to be nervous about coming out to my dad, I think to myself. "Yes, it was Paul. It started when we were in the police academy and went on up until the divorce. We were being careless and your mother came home early one day. She caught us. It was stupid and I never should've let it carry on." I haven't been looking at him. As he finishes talking I turn and smile up at him, feeling so relieved. "Then you don't care if I'm gay." I'm stupidly happy about that fact after years of worrying over it. "Are you sure you're gay, Son? A person's sexuality can change over time, they're not even sure when it gets fixed one way or the other. When things started between Paul and me I never thought it was more than one buddy helping out another...," he started telling me. I watch him and his words become nothing but background noise to the racing of my thoughts. There he is standing tall, looking amazing like always. It feel like I've wanted him forever and he's starred in so many of my fantasies. The night's revelations are turning my world upside down yet... Not long after he transferred to Vice I'd looked it up online, wanting to understand some of the changes that were so jarring in his appearance. The article I'd read gave the obvious definitions of the word then went on to talk about the police. It said that traditionally Vice referred to the investigation and prosecution of crimes that society considered "inherently immoral" like prostitution, gambling and drugs. It made sense, as I researched more, that he couldn't go out looking like a cop when busting hookers. The words "inherently immoral" had stuck in my head after that. Now they come back, echoing in my head, as I consider doing the most inherently immoral thing I could ever imagine – seducing my father. I get a warm feeling in my gut, like I get right before a game, of mixed anticipation and nerves. I take a deep breath and stand to face my dad. "...it can get all mixed up in your head, you know?" I've missed most of what he'd just said but I remember what had started it. "Dad, I'm sure I'm gay. Very gay. I'm so gay that I jerk off thinking about my own father having sex with me." I slowly close the distance between us as I speak. "Thinking about the way another man's dick would feel in my hand," I say it and hold my hand up between us. I can't guess what he is thinking from the look on his face. "How it would feel, taste, in my mouth." A not very subtle lick of my lips. "In my ass?" "Brian, you can't..." I put my hand on his shoulder, just like the stripper had done to me earlier that night. His words trail off and a heat or hunger blazes in his eyes. "Your dick, Dad. I imagined what it would feel like if it was you fucking me." I'm not sure what to expect with my confession but I'm not ready for what happens. I startle and jump as Dad's hand lashes out and fists in my t-shirt. I don't even have time to be afraid as he drags me forward and spins me into the wall so my back is plastered against it. I can't catch a deep breath with the way he is instantly looming over me, nearly nose to nose. "Brian...," he whispers my name so close I can feel the dampness of his breath on my lips. We're eye to eye and it's so intense when he breathes out the word, "son," as not even a whisper. I can actually feel the struggle inside him like a steel band around my chest, digging in and making me want to cringe. Acting completely on instinct, turned on but also wanting to ease his pain, I grip his hard and swollen biceps as I bring my knee up between his legs and press against his crotch. I can feel how hard he is and flex my thigh against his cock. Like a high-tension wire snapping he growls in his throat just a second before he moves in. He crowds me into the wall with his chest and shoulders and the force of his mouth covering mine makes the back of my head hit it with a dull thud. His big hands latch onto my ass and his lips force mine apart as he forces his tongue into my mouth. I gasp into him and he uses his hold on my ass to bring our crotches together, hard cock to hard cock. I can't even take it all in before a shuddering groan wells up out of my chest and vibrates through our mouths while I sperm the inside of my shorts. My body seizes up then it's like every bone melts away and I buckle against the wall. Dad pulls back but his big hands slide up from my ass to my pits and help control the fall as I land on my knees. His hard-on, trapped behind his jeans, is right in my face and I watch his hands move to unbuckle and unbutton. Dad pushes his pants and underwear down and the big cock swings out towards my face, inches away. It's huge and scary but I don't really have time to take it in as the smell of his crotch sweeps me away like a wave. He smells salty and primal, utterly male. My mouth floods with saliva as I take a deep breath in, a contact high that no drug could ever duplicate rolls through me. My dad's stink makes me moan, keeps me hard. He grabs hold of himself as he leans in and paints the wide head over my spit-slick lips. Automatically I open my mouth for him. "Just the head," he tells me, his voice is rusty and low. I look up and our eyes meet as he continues, "That's your dad's cock in your mouth... Tastes good?" All of this happens in the space of seconds as I stretch and wrap my lips around the reddish-purple head. Dad is stroking himself and I can't believe the taste of him, the strange sensation of having something so large in my mouth. It feels alien and I have the random thought that nothing I haven't eaten has ever been inside my mouth like this. I want more of it but his other hand rests on my head and keeps me in place. I look up while Dad leans forward so his forehead rests against the wall behind me. As soon as his cock had fit itself between my lips I started licking it, testing its smooth surface with my tongue. I find the slit at the tip and dig in only to have my tongue forced aside by the first shot of his cum. I can't help but to be startled at the force of it and the way his next shot lands against my palate. I may have tried to pull away but his hand is still there keeping me close. It's pure instinct that has me swallowing and sucking in time for the next shot. It's slimy and bitter, salty and a little bit chunky but delicious because it's my dad's and I can't get enough. His seed leaves a film on my tongue and in my throat as I swallow it down convulsively. Completely spent he moves away and we watch one another, me on my knees at the wall and him leaning back against the arm of the sofa, after his cock slips out of my mouth. "You still want that fucking?" he asks me after a long moment where we silently try to read each other. All I can do is nod as I'm still trying to swallow down the remains of his thick load. "Upstairs," he says and I push off the wall onto my feet. Before I can move he grabs me and pins up against the wall. It's cool against my chest and his body is hot against my back. "Fuck, I just came, Brian..." He leans in and inhales deep. "But I swear I could fucking rape you right here." He grinds in harder and I push back. My heart is pounding with how much I want it and how I scared I am that he'll do it. A part of me really can't believe this is happening. He pulls me off the wall and gives a little shove toward the stairs so I take off. I pause at the door to my room and look back at my dad, who's just reaching the top of the stairs holding his jeans up though his cock is still out and flopping against his thick thigh with each step. "My room," he tells me, like he can read my mind. I walk down the hall and hear him say, "Clothes off," as I step through the door to his bedroom. I've been in here a hundred times but this time it's like I don't even recognize it. The big bed looks huge, unmade with all the blankets thrown over to the side he doesn't sleep on. I push off what I'm wearing, not even bothering to unbutton or unzip, and remember I'd cum in my shorts as I peel off my wet boxers. I'm naked before he enters the room. I turn around and his eyes travel up my body from where they'd been on my ass. When our eyes meet he gives a brief nod to the bed and I pull the bedding down to the bottom before climbing on. It's incredibly embarrassing but I do it on all fours with my ass pointed back towards my dad with some idea of making myself look sexy. I probably end up looking stupid but I'm too turned on to care. Once I'm in the middle I roll over onto my back and look at him. He's hard again, his big dick pulsing while I watch it get longer and thicker. He walks to the bedside and I'm panting, trying to anticipate what he's going to do, but he's studying my body as he opens the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of, I assume, lube along with a few condoms. He leaves all of it on top of the nightstand and shuts the drawer, steps back. He pulls off his shirt and our eyes meet before I can't help looking down at his hairy chest with its thick slabs of muscle. "You like the way I look?" he asks as he shucks of his pants and underwear. "Yeah," I wheeze out. I can't stop looking at him all over, disbelieving I have permission to actually check him out full on instead of catching peeks from the corners of my eyes. From his thick biceps with the raised veins running up each one to the dark pit-hair curling out from his underarms then over his chest and muscles of his abs my eyes get stuck on his large cock rising out of a thick bush of curling dark hair. I'm so turned on I feel like I might die from it. Like my heart is going to pound out of my chest. "I like the way you look, too." His voice is deep and a little hoarse. "Have for a while now," he admits. His words make my cock leak with a sick excitement as I imagine him checking me out when I was younger. All I can wish is that we'd done this sooner and the thought of myself at sixteen, or younger, doing this makes my stomach ache with a perverse heat. Dad leans over the bed and grabs my ankle. He drags me to the edge as he sits at an angle with his back partially turned away from me, hauling me half onto his lap like I don't weigh nearly two-hundred pounds. I end up with my ass hanging over one of his hairy thighs so I can feel the coarse hairs against the tops of my ass cheeks. He hooks my leg that's closest to him over his shoulders and pushes my outer leg up and back, holding it in place with his forearm. My wide open asscrack is hanging out and vulnerable between his spread thighs. I curl up enough to see him grab the bottle of lube with his free hand and flip the top open with his thumb. The whole thing happens so fast I can barely register how I got there. He pours a cool stream of clear gel right onto my puckered hole, making me shiver, and places the open bottle back onto the nightstand. I feel the pads of two thick fingers rubbing over my shitter and I can't help groaning out loud from the feel, like I can actually feel the swells and ridges of his fingerprints sliding across my extra sensitive skin. Just as I focus on relaxing the muscles there and feel them going lax Dad pushes in with both fingers. I grunt as he sighes out an amazed, "Fuck." It's too much too fast but I've done this to myself enough that I know what to do. I take a deep breath and force myself not to clench around his thick digits. I relax back onto the bed and close my eyes while Dad twists his fingers around a few times before fucking them in and out of me. "You've never done this before," he tells me, just loud enough for me to hear. "No," I agree in the same soft tone. I grab the sheet and bunch it in my fists as I wait for the burn and pain to fade some. "What'd you and Will do?" he asks. "Will?" I question back. I'm so wrapped up in my own head I wonder if I missed something. "Chad, I mean. The whore. What'd you two do?" His words are gruff, a little irritated. I process the fact that `Chad' is an alias and that my father knows the guy's real name. "He went down on me." The last part comes out on a whine as Dad adds another finger to my over-stuffed hole. Haven't we already been over this, I think. "You liked that?" he asks as he fingers me. "But you've thought of me fucking you?" He doesn't wait for an answer and he doesn't get one as he reaches deep and digs into my prostate with his fingertips. I shudder and grit my teeth as pleasure mixes with the pain. I know that spot well, know to rub the little lump as I jerk off. "You're old man's a dirty, depraved fucker," he continues. "No," I respond quickly. I'm too worried, for a second, that he's having second thoughts. "I'm not... I'm giving you fair warning, kid." Despite the old nickname when I open my eyes he's not smiling. He's dead serious. We stay locked like that for a long minute. I realize he's trying to tell me something but I don't care. He twists the fingers one last time before pulling them out, saying, "Get on your belly." I swing my legs back and roll over one shoulder so I land in the middle of the big bed. I turn enough to watch Dad as he picks up one of the condoms and rips it open with his teeth. His cock looks fucking huge jutting out like a club and the tip is turning more purple than red. It's a little bit scary but my gut doesn't just flutter with anxiety because it also looks fucking potent and hot. My own cock throbs against the sheet and I wish we were just fucking already. I realize it's been a few minutes and Dad is awfully quiet so I look up. He's holding the condom in his hand but he's looking at me. "You ever do this with another guy, you use one of these," he tells me and holds up the condom, using his patented dad's-authoritative-voice. I already know about condoms and I'm impatient `cause I can feel my asshole getting tight again even though I'm trying really hard not to squeeze it closed like my body wants to do. I'm just about to tell him all this when he tosses the unused condom onto the nightstand and picks up the lube. I watch the condom fall, I'm sure with a confused expression, and look back at him while he says, "Your dad gets to go bare." All I'm thinking is, `He's going to cum in my ass,' and I can't help grinding my cock against the bed. He's my dad and it doesn't even occur to me to wonder if I trust him like that. All I can think about is his hot seed flooding my virgin chute. Just the thought of it is almost enough to make me shoot and I let up on the grinding to focus on watching Dad pour lube up the shaft of his cock and smooth it on with one big paw of a hand. "Spread your legs wider," he says as he puts his knees on the mattress and moves toward me. I do what he wants and can't look away from him until he's on his knees between my wide-spread thighs and my head is craned around as far as my neck will go. "Turn your ass up more." I raise and lift my hips while arching my back until I'm basically on my knees and chest. I turn and rub my face on the sheet to get rid of the sweat on my face and my cock feels so freaking heavy where it's bobbing from between my legs. "Oh God," I groan because I can't believe this is really happening as Dad drops down onto one hand and I bounce a little on the bed. The huge head slots between my cheeks and nudges up against my burning asshole. Then both of Dad's hands are just above and outside my shoulders as he leans in and I can feel the heat off his body all long my back. I can smell the sweat he's worked up. I feel like I'm going to hyperventilate with how excited I am. It's just like almost every fantasy I've ever had about my father only better and he hasn't even given me that huge – even bigger than I'd imagined - cock. "Breathe," he orders and I do my best to comply. I turn to see him as much as I can and he cocks his head so our eyes lock as he applies pressure to my hole with his blunt cockhead. There's a second where I'm sure he won't fit it in, where I know he's just too big. It's only a second then his cock surges into my ass and I feel the pop inside me as the head passes the outer muscles and sinks deep. The pain is immediate and sharp. Christ, it hurts bad. I'd scream but my chest is locked. It's even worse than the end of football junior year when some guy landed on my ankle with his knee and fucked it up. At least then I had a second to prepare for it. Dad's weight lands on my back and he hunches his hips forward until every last inch of his cock is stuffed inside my screaming rectum. He shoves his hands under my armpits and wraps them around my shoulders so every hairy, sweat-slick part of his chest and belly is pressed against my back. His legs line up with mine and push them impossibly wider. "It hurts," he grinds the words out against my ear and his voice is harsh. I want to beg him to take it out but I still can't catch even a gasp of air so I nod, let him see the tears welling up in my eyes that I can't stop. "Supposed to hurt the first time, Son. If you were a girl you'd be bleeding." My asshole is clenching and spasms uselessly around the thick base of his cock while my guts are trying to push him out like his cock's a giant shit. I feel like I am bleeding, like he's torn me open to make room for his mammoth prick. I push off the bed and manage to lift us both enough for my lungs to expand and draw in a shaking breath. Then he grinds his hips so his dick stirs my insides and I collapse. I want to crawl away but he has me wrapped up tight, pinned in place. "Stop squirming." His voice is gravelly and strained. "After this it'll get easier each time." He stops moving so I stop trying to get away, not fully aware that I'd been trying. "Jesus, Son. You don't know..." We lay there like that for a long time, not moving, while he whispers in my ear. "You feel so good, so tight." The pain starts to fade some but the pressure, the fullness is still there. "Just wait `til you're ready. Wait `til I can really move, `til we can fuck. I'm gonna do you so good. Gonna make you scream. I wanna hear you beg me to fuck you harder, beg your father to take you hard and make you my bitch." His words are so hot and I'm noticing that the more aroused I get the more my ass eases up on the pulsing death-grip it has on his cock. My brain ticks out the things I've been too preoccupied to notice. Things like the weight and heat of him covering me, the musky stink of his pits and mine, the way his heart is racing behind the heavy pecs plastered to my back and how he's breathing so hard. He moves some and his cock shifts, drawing a gasp from me. Not a gasp of pain because it feels different; painful but not. Before I can explain it to myself he actually pulls back a tiny bit and instantly shoves back in, planting his cock deep again. The strange not-pain feeling is even more intense and I move restlessly against him. There's something there, in that feeling, that I need – have – to understand like I'm on the verge of something. "Da-a-a-ad," I whine and moan. I need him to move and give me something I can't articulate. "Please," I gasp. He chuckles and I feel the sound transfer from deep in his chest to mine. "You're almost ready," he husks out in an amused rasp. "Yeah," I tell him, not sure if I'm agreeing or if it's a question. "Gonna fuck this sweet son-ass." I want to laugh at all the S's in that statement but I'm too busy trying to get him to move. "Now you want this?" he asks, again with that rumbling chuckle and an abbreviated thrust. I whimper like a fucking puppy. Not that I care, it's still my dad on top of me. However I seem or act, looking tough in front of my father while he takes my cherry is at the bottom of my list of worries. I'd known my ass was sensitive but, shit, it's like my whole brain is focused on the long, wide path Dad's carved into my body. I swear the head's nudging against my ribs. It doesn't hurt so much as it's just fucking overwhelming. I'm only half-hard but I feel like I might cum at any second. That pressure inside is thrilling and each short slide feels kinda' like a stroke on my hard cock feels, sort of. I can't quantify it, those alien sensations, as Dad starts a gentle glide of short strokes with his hips. "Dad, Dad," I'm panting and grunting. Every fifth or sixth stroke he pulls back a little more then pushes home. It's a slow buildup to full on longdicking me. He's raised up at some point and released my shoulders so only his chest is still on me and his forearms are digging into the mattress either side of me. I roll my hips and he's sinking deeper but it brings the belly of his cock into alignment with my prostate. It's fucking heaven, that monster skating over my joy-spot combined with the deep penetration and the friction on my asslips. My father is muttering and cursing. I think he's praising me. I know I hear him say clearly, "Take my cock, boy." I don't know when or how but I realize my body has gone from actively fighting the invasion to welcoming it. My ass is practically sucking him in as he pulls out then squeezing to keep him in. I want to tell him to never stop. I'm ready to beg for more but he kicks it up a notch like he knows what I need. He's pounding into me, his strokes going from a smooth glide to a serious ramming. The sound of our bodies slapping together is louder than the rough curses Dad's expelling with each breathe. It's killing me. I feel like if I don't cum I'm truly going to explode. He wraps one big hand around my throat, his thumb on my jaw. He tilts my head back and turns it so he can force his thick tongue between my lips. The move trips some inner trigger and I'm cumming all over the sheets and my stomach, backsplash ricocheting around with each hard shot of cum. My ass locks down but my dad doesn't let it stop his hammering cock and it makes each sensation of his thrusting cock more concentrated. It seems like the longest orgasm of my life, stretched out to minutes instead of seconds, while I howl into my dad's voracious mouth. Just as I feel my balls emptying out he rips his mouth away with a roar. He releases my throat and pushes off the bed onto his knees. My father latches on to my hips and drags them higher as he pounds into me. I feel his cock swell and the next dozen strokes are so brutally hard and deep that they make the ones before seem gentle. My cock spits out a few last dribbles as I feel the hard shots of his seed splash against my tender insides. The wet heat gushes out around his cock when I can't contain it all. I feel it run down my thighs and the back of my drawn-tight ballsac. His body shudders hard a few times as he finishes dropping his load into my ass. In the aftermath he lowers my hips down to the bed and his long cock slowly snakes its way out of my sore ass. It hurts a little as the heads pops free and I moan at the loss. I feel bruised inside and out. Dad falls onto his side and reaches out to pull me into him, makes me the little spoon. His bottom arm goes under my head and wraps around my chest as he uses the other hand to rub my load into the skin of my stomach. We lay there, catching our breath until I'm almost asleep. "Promise this won't fuck with your head?" He sounds serious. "Only if it's not going to happen again," I tell him after a second. I'm not really joking and I think he knows it but I don't feel like getting into some shitty, deep discussion over the whole thing. Besides, it's been a really long day and I just want to sleep. So I do. I'd promised not to let it fuck with my head but I'd woken up the next morning, no longer a virgin, and crawled out of Dad's bed, purposefully quiet not to wake him, to get ready for school. I'll admit I was anxious about what we'd done together, more about what Dad might've been thinking. I shouldn't have worried. Dad had been waiting for me in the living room. He didn't say a word, just took my duffle in one hand and lifted off my backpack with the other. He bent me over the couch, brandishing the lube, and tugged down my favorite jeans. "I'll write you a tardy note," he promised before pushing in. I got to school fifteen minutes late with my note in hand and a slimy asscrack. Thing is, having sex with him had never fucked with my head. It wasn't until that strange kiss that morning when I really started thinking about things. From that first time everything had been perfect, just the way I always thought it would be. Dad was always aggressive and forceful. He liked having sex in risky places and just coming right up to the limit of what I could stand to take from him. But I never doubted he loved me as his kid. And the sex was fucking incredible. Dad could say or do stuff I never would've guessed could turn me on so much. That first time had hurt and it always hurt when he nailed my ass but sometimes he could get me so hot just by fingering me, playing with my cock or talking dirty to me that I'd be begging him to just fucking put it in me. Then came The Kiss and I avoided him for a few days. I wanted to talk so I came over after judo on Tuesday to wait until he got off work. Only Uncle Paul was there lugging a heavy box up to Dad's porch and I vaguely remember he'd borrowed some tools or something that night I'd heard them talk about Bucky's. I opened the garage for him and we started talking. Uncle Paul was looking at me. It was a look I'd seen before but hadn't recognized until after my dad showed me what it meant. I got him into the living room with a drink and I was really seeing Uncle Paul for the first time. He's a hot guy; same age as Dad but shorter and lanky. It was so easy to reach over and grope him, get on my knees between his legs. His cock was easier to suck, not nearly as big as Dad's. His ass was right there hanging over the edge of the sofa cushion. I could tell he wanted to stop me when I rolled on the condom, it took me a minute `cause it was the first time I'd used one, but he didn't. It was probably clumsy on my part and painful for him, still he never made a move to stop me. His ass was so tight and I loved it. I fucked him hard and watching him react to each stab of my cock was almost as sweet as his hot hole. Uncle Paul came first and as soon as I was done he took off. I wanted to reassure him about whatever was freaking him out but he didn't wait to listen. Then I was left alone and for the first time I really thought about why it was always Dad fucking me, even in my fantasies. He never put his lips on or near my cock either. Dad came home sometime in the night and Wednesday morning it was like nothing had changed but even when he was fucking my ass to mush, and I loved it, I was thinking about what it would be like to fuck him. I honestly hadn't really noticed the condom with Uncle Paul but how would it feel without it? If he had rights to bareback me then for sure I'd have the same? I cringed at the idea of telling my father he had a "hungry cunt" while I dicked him or any of the other wild things he told me that turned me on without knowing why they did. How could something like that make me burn with shame and lust but I couldn't ever imagine myself saying it? I was still obsessing over all this after we'd both cum. Dad's cum was running out of my ass which was sore after going a few days without then getting plowed hard. I'd called into school so we could talk about shit but I was starting to wonder if I had the guts for a whole different kind of conversation. He was stretched out on his belly watching me with this smug smile on his mouth. I followed the slope of his back down to where his ass swelled up, thick and furry. "Why'd you call out of school again?" he asked me in a sleepy voice. "We need to talk," I said and paused to gather up some courage. "I fucked Uncle Paul last night," I told him, just letting it slip out. He was quiet for a long time and we just stared at one another. It hit me then, he might be my dad but he's still a guy. It's no different than facing down a bigger guy on the field, not that there'd been many of those in the last two years but still. "Yeah?" he finally asked. There was a strange electricity buzzing in me then, right under my skin and in my balls. Arousal and something like power, maybe. "I liked it," I told him. I could feel my cock getting hard and it felt fucking heavy.