Warning: the following work of fiction deals in a frank and explicit way with matters of incest, gay sex, watersports, and mild scat. If such depictions are offensive to you, or if you are under 18 years of age, please do not read any further.

This story is the product of the author's imagination. It bears no resemblance to his own experiences or to those of anyone he knows.

I've lived alone with my dad since my mom died five years ago. I was twelve when she died. My brother had already gone away to college, so he wasn't here to give Dad emotional support. He wasn't here to talk to him, to keep the house clean, to do the laundry, to put Dad to bed when he had too much to drink. Dad wasn't an alcoholic; it's just that sometimes the pressure got to him, I guess, and he knocked back a few too many. It never interfered with his work. (Dad is a physical therapist who deals with sports injuries.)

On the fifth year anniversary of her death, I was already in bed when Dad came in. I could tell from the sound of him fumbling around that he was drunk. When he didn't come upstairs right away,I figured he needed a little help, so I threw on some gym shorts and went downstairs.

Dad is about 6'1", with jet black hair flecked with gray and sky blue eyes. He has the kind of skin that's been exposed to the elements, but isn't at all old looking. He has a square jaw and a real muscular torso with a light sprinkling of chest hair, big nipples. His shirt had been carelessly tucked in, and it was partially unbuttoned. I could see the round shape of his pecs through the fabric of the shirt. I'd seen him without a shirt so many times, and I had every mole memorized. He has a big, thick cock too. I hadn't ever seen it hard, but I knew it had to be; I'd caught glimpses of it when he was changing. Thinking about his dick, my own cock stirred a little, not knowing that that night, I would find out just how big his prick got.

When I got downstairs, I saw him in the moonlight. He was just standing there, staring into space.

"Dad?" I ventured.

He looked up at me. His blue eyes almost glowed in the moonlight streaming in from the window.

"Had a few too many," he slurred. (No duh, Dad!) "Help me upstairs."

While I was trying to help him to the bedroom, he had his arm around my shoulder, and was putting his weight on me. He was stumbling like a motherfucker and it was hard to negotiate the stairs. Once upstairs, it was a bit easier, but not much. I could feel his body press on mine each time he stumbled. I didn't think he was getting a charge out of it, but I sure was.

On the way past the john, he muttered the word, "Piss." My cock jumped when he said it. I had always loved piss: I love to hear it hit the bowl whenever he pissed. Such a strong, healthy flow. I imagined what it tasted like. Sometimes I went into the bathroom right after he'd finished, so I could get a whiff of his pungent brew. Once I even licked a stray drop off the rim of the toilet. It was pretty pale, and had no real flavor.

My thoughts were wandering in this direction when I guided him into the door. I stood him in front of the toilet and while he fumbled with his pants, I turned away, about to leave and stand just outside the door until he was finished.

"Help me, fucker!" he yelled, more frustrated than angry. He was having trouble undoing his pants. I went over to him and helped him get his zipper down. He reached in and pulled out his cock. It was beautiful. A long, thick shaft, fattest towards the middle with a gradual thinning towards the head. And the head! Bulbous, beautiful and exactly the right shape. I longed to put it in my mouth. I stopped myself staring. He was drunk, but I thought for sure he'd notice if I was checking out his cock. I held him steady from behind, my hands on his shoulders.

His flow started. He was pissing all over the place; he couldn't seem to get the stream to stay steady.

"Jesus, Dad!" I said. "Are you gonna piss all over the floor?"

At first I thought he wasn't going to answer, but after a few seconds, he said, "I can't..." An embarrassed pause. "Help me out."

I figured he was too drunk to care at this point, so I did what he asked. I reached around to grab his pissing cock. I "accidentally" grabbed to far out ahead of him, and was rewarded by a hot jet of piss coursing across my hand. I knew, though, that staying too long with my hand in the stream would look funny, so I quickly drew it back, muttering obscenities so that he wouldn't suspect I'd done it on purpose, and aimed and held his cock. I felt the piss coarse through. I was trembling, holding my Dad's dick while he was taking a piss. I felt sure that he could feel my heartbeat, since he was leaning back against me. I hoped that my erection wouldn't yet be noticeable; it was beginning to creep up, though, and I was worried that he'd never finish pissing.

Finally the stream dribbled. I took my hands off his dick, but he said, "Shake it off!" So I put my hands back on and shook his cock, knocking off those last few precious drops. I wanted to be in front of him, shaking it out on my tongue. At this thought, my cock reached its full hardness. I closed my eyes, hoping he was too drunk to notice.

I held his shoulders and backed away a bit. He started to do up his pants, but only got his briefs up. Not up to the challenge of fastening his pants, he left them open and started to stagger out of the bathroom, with me behind, making sure he did not fall.

Since I was out of his line of sight, I surreptitiously brought my fingers to my mouth and licked off the piss that got on my hand, savoring the salty flavor. I was so wrapped up in the delicious taste that I didn't notice that Dad had stopped walking. He must have sensed that I had stopped. My hand lingered a bit too long at my mouth, because when I looked up, Dad was staring right at me. I felt a hot flush of shame. What on earth would he say? A million possibilities entered my mind: he could kick me out of the house, beat me up, disown me; my mind was racing. Whatever it was, I was sure that my life was never going to be the same. How could I explain this one? I wanted him to say something, do something, but I dreaded what he might do. What he did do was not what I even imagined.

We had stopped right there in the hallway. After he had stared at me for what felt like a full minute, his piercing blue eyes narrowed, and he began to smirk. On his face, a look of contempt and lust had quickly replaced the one of surprise.

"That taste good, faggot?" he said.

I was far too surprised to do anything but stutter.

"I asked you if you like the taste of my piss!"

His voice was so stern, so hard, that my knees almost gave out. I was so turned on; this was my ultimate fantasy. Or was it? Could he be toying with me? Trying to get me to admit it out loud, then throwing me out of the house on my ass? No, he would have hit the roof right off the bat. He had something else in mind, and I knew it. But I still couldn't speak. I couldn't believe it was really happening. My head was spinning.

"Answer me, queerboy!"

I finally managed a choked, "Yes..."

"Ok, fag, let's get one thing straight right here. From now on, you address me as 'Sir.' You got that, pussy?"

I was swooning, but I did not want to fuck this chance up, so I said, "Yes, Sir."

"Better. Well...did you like that piss, faggot?"

"Yes, Sir," I said, feeling hornier than I ever had. All those suppressed feelings of lust came flooding over me. I wanted him to know all about it too. I wanted to tell him what I was, and what I wanted to do to him. I wanted all of him. I wanted to taste his cock and cum, to taste his ass, and to drink that hot piss of his on my knees in front of him. And to feel his hot cock, my dad's cock, fuck my ass hard. I wanted him to slap my ass, call me "faggot, " have him make me beg for the privilege of drinking his piss. And from the look in his steeI-blue eyes, he wanted to do all these things and more. On fire with lust, I looked down at his pants, which he hadn't buttoned. His massive cock was jutting out, drooling onto his white briefs. My mouth began to water in anticipation.

"I got more piss for you later, bitch. In the meantime, I think you need to beg to suck my cock."

It was just then that I noticed that he wasn't as drunk as he'd first appeared to be. Had he tricked me? I was too horny to think about it; I was totally into this.

"Please, sir, let me suck your hot man cock."

"You want me to stick my hot cock in your cunt-mouth?" he sneered.

"Yes, sir.Please, sir, fuck my faggot face!" I nearly shouted.

"I'm gonna fuck that faggot throat, boy. On your knees, whore!" I dropped instantly, mouth open and ready to receive his hot mancock. "I think you need to clean my shithole first, faggot. Stick out that tongue, bitch, and eat my asshole."

He turned around and shoved his beautiful, muscular ass in my face. "Eat out my nasty ass, faggot!" Gone from his tone was any sign of paternal love; I was his faggot whore. And I loved it. "Let's see how you like using your tongue for toilet paper, cunt!"

My head was swimming as I eased my tongue toward his hot, musky hole. His ass was a little dirty from a recent shit. He hadn't wiped very thoroughly, which made my bitter task all the more pleasant. I felt some hairs tickle my tongue as I snaked my tongue - "Mmmmmm" - into that delicious, musky asshole. He pushed his ass forcefully onto my face, reached around to grab the back of my head, and rammed it against his ass. "Come on, faggot! Get that fucking tongue up my ass! You want that tongue up there, don'tya? You like licking your father's nasty asshole, you fucking queer? Huh?"

I tried to tell him, "Yes, sir," but only a garbled moan could be heard.

"That's it, fag, get up in that ass. You like eating that man's butt, don't you, homo? That's what your fag tongue is for, cunt! Clean up all that leftover shit!" His taunting was only making my cock harder; I reached up to stroke it and he said instantly, "Don't you dare touch that queer boy dick until I'M taken care of, you got that, faggot?" He reached around and pulled my hair. "You hear me, cocksucker? You take care of my needs first. It's about MY cock! From here on out."

>From here on out? Could it be? This wasn't to be a one-time event, remembered but ignored? Does he want me to do this everyday? I hoped.

"Get back in that ass, boy!" he ordered. I did. "Clean it out good, bitch, and maybe I'll fuck that faggot ass of yours. That what you want, cocksucker? Want to feel your dad's cock up your pussy, whore? Play with your cunt, bitch. Get it hot and ready for my hot cock!" My fingers began teasing my ass, which was twitching now; I wanted my father's cock in there. I hoped he would find it tight enough. I wanted him to fuck my cunt. As I fingered it, I thought of it as my cunt, my faggot cunt. I wanted him to slap my ass and fuck it hard. I wanted his cock in me, in my ass. My tongue slid deeper than I would have thought possible into his tasty, funky ass channel. I let out a moan, which seemed to trigger him.

"That tongue's got my cock rock hard, boy. Beg to suck it, faggot! Tell me how bad you want it, bitch! Beg to suck my cock!"

"Oh, please, sir, please let me suck your cock! I want it so bad, sir!"

"How bad?" he sneered.

"Really bad, Sir."

"Little fag likes sucking cock, huh?"

My cock had never been harder. "Yes, Sir!"

"Say it: say, 'I'm a faggot whore who likes to suck cock!' "

"I'm a faggot whore who likes to suck cock!" I said. I meant it too.

"So much that you'll drink my hot piss for the honor?" he said.

"Oh yes, yes!" I screamed.

"Say it, faggot! Say you'll drink my piss!"

"I'll drink your piss, Sir. I want to drink it, just use my mouth!"

"Yeah!" he shouted, "I'll use that faggot mouth. Get the fuck on my cock, bitch! I'll fuck that mouth like it's a cunt!"

"It is, Sir, fuck my faggot cunt mouth!"

He slapped my face with his huge cock. It was the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen. I opened my mouth and he rammed in into my mouth, hitting my throat and making me gag. He put his large hands on the back of my head to hold it steady.

"Suck my cock, you fucking whore! Take that man's dick, you bitch! Suck my cock! Suck it!"

My father stuck his long thick shaft all the way to the back of my throat; I relaxed and let it ease down into its depths . I looked up; he was watching me suck his cock, his mouth in a snarl, but smiling. Our eyes met. More softly, but somehow more menacingly, he said, "Yeah, that's it, bitch. Suck my cock. This is only the beginning, fag. I'm gonna use you for my total pleasure. Your mouth, your pussy, it's all mine, bitch. I'm gonna work you over real good. Those lips feel so hot around my cock."

Not losing eye contact, he put his hands on the back of my head, and kept up the rhythm, fucking my mouth, holding my head still. "Keep sucking it, bitch. Yeah, I can tell you're a fag from the way you suck it. You like it. You've always wanted this cock, haven't you, queerboy? I bet you jacked off in your room, thinking about your dad's hot dick, didn't you?"

I nodded my assent while I kept milking his cock with my mouth and tongue.

" Well, now you're gonna take care of it everyday. Your mouth was made for my cock. Your ass too! You're gonna eat my cum, the same cum that made you. I shot my load up your Mom's pussy, and I'm gonna shoot it up yours, too. Except you'll give me more pussy than she ever did because you love this, don't you, fag? I can count on you to be my faggot whore slut, can't I, queerboy?"

"Yes, Sir!" I said, taking my mouth off his cock for a moment. "I will suck your hot cock and take your piss everyday."

"And give up your cunt, too!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Oh, yeah, bitch, I know you will. How does that cock taste, faggot? You like the taste of that cock?"

"Yes, Sir, I love the taste of your cock, Sir!" I managed to say before inhaling his cock again.

"Don't forget about my nuts, boy. Get down there are sniff my balls!"

I did go down to his beautiful low-hangers and took a good whiff. They smelled so good, so musky. He thrust his pelvis into my face.

"Suck my balls, faggot!"

I licked all over the hot, sweaty surface of his beautiful, firm nuts. He continued to grind his pelvis into my face.

"Lick all over those balls, faggot. Suck 'em! Suck your Dad's balls, fucking queer bitch! Those man nuts are full of cum, fag. You want to drink that hot cum?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," I moaned. "I want to drink it all, Sir."

What he said next surprised me more than anything that had happened so far. "I haven't eaten pussy for a long time, bitch. I want to eat that cunt! Bring that faggot ass over here!"

Surprised but willing, I obliged him by standing up and bending over, hands on my knees. My dad got on his knees behind me, and put his nose to my pussy. I heard him inhale deeply.

"Ooo yeah, hot pussy smells good! You want me to eat your cunt, bitch? You want me to stick my thick tongue up that pussy?"

After a quick hard slap of my ass cheeks, he rammed his tongue into my ass channel. I moaned as he worked my ass over with his tongue. He was getting my ass ready for his cock. I loved the feel of his tongue on my fag pussy. He worked his tongue into my ass and tickled my insides with it. I was moaning with pleasure.

"Yeah, that hot pussy tastes good! You like that, bitch? You like my fat tongue up your cunt?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Eat my pussy, Sir!"

"I'll get that faggot pussy of yours all hot for my mancock. Wriggle that cunt in my face, bitch. Show me how bad you want it. You're in heat for my hot cock, aren't you, faggot? I'm gonna fuck you so fucking hard! My dick is gonna stretch that cunt real good!"

"Oh, I want your hot cock in my pussy, sir!" I said, whimpering, I wriggled my ass as he'd told me to do. I reached my hands back and spread open my cheeks, exposing my tight pink fuck-hole. He plunged his tongue back into my hole as I rotated my hips like a whore in a porno movie.

He slapped my ass...hard! "Yeah, I'm gonna put my fat cock in that fag-cunt of yours too. You want that, cocksucker?"

"Yeah, I want to feel your hot cock in my pussy! Oh, please, fuuuuuuuck me!"

"Fucking faggot bitch in heat!" He slapped my ass again, on both cheeks. "Beg for it, cunt! Beg for your Dad's cock, you fucking faggot!" His large hands came down hard on my ass as he spoke, punctuating his insults.

"Oh, please, sir, stick your hot cock in my hole! Rape my pussy. Fuck my faggot ass, sir."

"I'm gonna fuck that faggot ass, bitch! You fucking slut! You want your Dad's cock, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I moaned.

"Say it!" he yelled

"I want my dad's hot cock in my pussy! I want my dad to fuck me!"

"Spread those legs, cunt! Let me in that faggot ass! You wanted it, now take my cock, you cheap piece of shit!"

He shoved his meaty cock into my hot ass; he began to pound it in immediately.

"Take that fucking cock, fag!"

His rockhard prick was slamming with no mercy into my stretched pussy. I felt that enormous cock plumbing the depths of my fag-cunt. My father's cock was ramming into my pussy. My father's cock. I couldn't see his face, but I knew it was him. It felt like my father was fucking me. I've had other cocks up my ass, but this was different. I belonged to this man, to this cock.

"Oh, yeah, fuck my faggot ass, Sir!" I moaned.

"You take that fucking cock up your cunt, you faggot whore!"

He continued to plow into my ass, with a rhythm that was driving me over the edge. I felt like I was about to cum, yet I wasn't even touching my dick. I knew that I was meant to be in this position; at the beck and call of a man who would use me to fulfill his every desire. And I would get my pleasure in being of use, and in being used.

The thought of taking my father's dick on a regular basis drove me even crazier.

Dad kept pounding and fucking my ass, slapping it, and saying the most degrading and humiliating things to me. I was in heaven.

"Oh, yeah, you fucking queer, take that big mancock. Eat my cock with your faggot pussy, bitch. Milk it! How do you like that cock, son?"

"I love your cock in my pussy, Sir!"

"I'm gonna shoot here! You want this load in that faggot mouth of yours, bitch?"

"Yes, Sir, please, cum in my mouth!"

He pulled his cock out of my ass and shouted for me to turn around. I did, and his dirty prick was pointing right at my face.

"Go ahead, bitch. Put that nasty cock in your mouth, faggot!"

I open my mouth as he stuck his dick, still wet from my ass, into his mouth. His hips thrust the cock into my throat and pulled out partially, then rammed forward again. I heard Dad grunt, then shout as my throat was rewarded with a huge load of cum. It tasted incredible. I thought the cum would never stop. He pulled back a little, so that I could feel and taste the cum on my tongue,

"Now, let me see you swallow that, you fucking fag. Don't take my cock out of your whore mouth, just drink my juice, fag!"

I swallowed his load, and almost immediately I felt a hot stream shoot into my mouth. At last, I was drinking my father's piss. I thought I would faint from the pleasure of it. I had found my position: on my knees in front of his pissing cock.


I greedily drank up all his hot piss. The flow felt hot and wonderful filling up my mouth and gushing down my throat. I threw back my head a little, so that he would piss a little on my face, too. I planned to sleep with his piss still on me, marking me as his faggot, to use as he pleased.

When his flow was finished, I realized we were still right there in the hall. We hadn't moved. The only lube we had used was spit. I'd never taken a cock without lube before, but I had done it. Very little piss had spilled, since I swallowed most of it. All the cum went down my throat.

Dad smirked at me, pulled up his pants and said, "Don't jerk off your dick until you're in your room. And I want you in my room, at the foot of my bed at 7am sharp to take my morning piss."

I was there, too.

(More to come, so stay tuned.)