Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2024 23:48:51 -0400 From: Derek Wainwright Subject: A Daddys Boy: Chapter 1 By AkaiTora This story contains incestuous sex between a father and his son. If you don't like that, then don't read further than this. You've been warned. Also, this story is a slower burn than my others, the actual incest doesn't happen for a bit but I promise it'll be worth the wait. Now enjoy the story! Also don't forget to donate to Nifty if you can! We all want to keep this wonderful archive going. You can donate at: https://donate.nifty.org/ The Characters: Alex Young: Son / Eighteen years old / Seven-inch uncut cock / 5'9" / Athletic body with smooth facial features and short brown hair Daniel Young: Father / Forty-two years old / Eight-inch uncut cock / 6'2" / Strong hairy, beefy body with a nice trimmed mustache and beard and shaved head ... Alex's POV "Congratulations to the class of 2024, you have now graduated!" The auditorium erupts into raucous cheers as students move the tassels on their caps in lieu of throwing them up into the sky. I throw my arms around my buddies as we celebrate the greatest achievement of our short eighteen years. There's still so much more we have yet to accomplish but I could not be more excited to start my journey with these guys as we're all heading to the same college. I spot Dad in the crowd and wave to him, almost maniacally. He waves back with this broad smile on his ruggedly handsome face. He's pointing a camera in my direction so he can show it off to extended family and his drinking buddies I'm sure. Most kids would probably find it embarrassing when their parents gush about them but I revel in the attention. I've always been like that, I think. From the moment I was born, I was doing performances for my folks. I would dance and sing and do little magic tricks I learned from the internet. Mom and Dad always supported me in those endeavors. They'd applaud and shower me in kisses. And then Mom passed away. It was cancer. I was only nine years old then but I remember how much pain I was in. My father was even worse off. He drank a lot in those days, pawning me off to my grandparents while he grieved. When he came back to me though, he was stronger and happier than ever. I don't really know what exactly had changed but I was so grateful for it because he gave me the strength I needed to go on. I'm getting sappy, tears are forming at the corners of my eyes. The point is: I love my dad. Nothing could ever change that. Everyone slowly filed out of the auditorium and into the courtyard. It would be the last time we would be on this campus as students. After posing for a number of photos with my friends, I go search for Dad in the masses. He told me he would meet me by the front gate. "Alex!" That gruff voice, it can only belong to... "Dad!" I run up to him and he immediately scoops me into his tattooed arms, spinning me around so that I'm totally weightless. We probably don't look like an average father-son duo but neither of us care. This is my big moment and I'm sharing it with the person I care about most in the world so fuck everyone else, we're going to be mushy if we want to. "There's my happy graduate!" says Dad, putting me down and ruffling my hair. I spent hours with gel and holding spray to get it just right so I pout. "Well, not so happy now..." "You just ruined my hair, Dad!" I bemoan. He just chortles in response. "Oh, is there someone you're trying to impress? Who's the lucky gal? Or is it a guy this time?" My dating life has never been a secret between us. I never even came out as bisexual to my Dad. He just intrinsically knew when I turned twelve and he took me to this queer youth group. He himself doesn't care about gender when it comes to his romantic partner. Although he always makes a sour face when I try to put a label on it. He just "likes what he likes" according to him. I'm blessed to have such a cool dad. But in a way, I'm also cursed. Because there is one secret that I'm desperately keeping from my dad. And that's that the someone I'm trying to impress... is him. I've had a crush on my own father for as long as I can remember. I don't know when it started. When I was three years old and he was still giving me baths. When I was five years old and he bandaged up my bruised knee from playing soccer. When I was seven years old and he was giving the last kiss I would ever experience on the lips from him. I just know I realized it was a crush when I was eleven years old and stealing heart-pounding glances at him when he would go into the shower. Over time, that crush developed into love. How could anyone not be enamored with this man? He's so sexy with his tattoo sleeves and muscular arms. Sure, he doesn't have a flat stomach anymore but even his paunch is hot too. Not to mention the face that I've seen him erect once while he was jerking off in the living room and he is huge. How he doesn't have a plethora of paramours is beyond me. "I just want to look good in everyone's pictures," I say. "Speaking of, you gotta take some of me and the guys! Come on!" "Alright, alright, I'm coming." After what feels like an hour of photo ops, I eventually break away from my friends so Dad and I can get to our dinner reservations. Personally, I like to think of it as an intimate romantic date. Even if Dad thinks it's just dinner with his son. We sit across from each other and order steaks, then we just chat about anything. Some stuff about TV shows and movies and music but mostly about the future. He wants to know everything. About the clubs I'll join, the people I'll meet, and most importantly, my career path. I blush, sheepishly averting his gaze because I'm ashamed to admit it but I have no idea what I want to do when I'm all grown up. Dad had already decided when he was my age to join the Fire Academy and become a firefighter. I respect that but saving people's lives sounds stressful AF and therefore, not for me. Dad reaches across the table to take my hand. He caresses my knuckles, sending a shiver up my spine and causing my mouth to dry up. "It's okay," he tells me. "You don't have to figure it all out now. Take your time and enjoy the experiences college will bring you and I'm sure you'll find out what you'll want to do." I smile. "Thanks, Dad." We gaze at each other for longer than usual. It feels as if he's searching my eyes for something. Not that I know what. But it makes me feel so close to him that I could break down crying in the middle of this restaurant. Then he breaks this beautiful fragile moment by saying, "Oh, before I forget!" He reaches into the big pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls out a box. "For you." "For me?" "As a graduation gift." "Dad, you didn't have to do that." He turns my outstretched hand over and presses the present into my palm. He then pats me firmly on the shoulder as if to tell me I have no choice but to accept it. "I wanted to," he says. "So just go ahead and take it, Alex." "Thanks, Dad." I examine the velvet box and for a moment, I imagine there to be a ring inside. Of course, that's just a silly old fantasy of mine. Not like it would even be legal for us to marry. A boy can dream though. Instead, I open the box and find a necklace inside with a jade circle and engraved on it is the symbol for earth from Avatar: The Last Airbender, our favorite show. "Dad..." "Earth's your favorite element, right?" he winks. "I got a matching one but for fire." "Dad, this is so cool!" I immediately take it out of the box and try to put it on. Dad holds up a hand to stop me and gets up from his chair to go behind me and clasp the necklace around my neck. Just feeling his rough and calloused hands so close to my throat is enough to make me pop a boner right there. Good thing no one notices since it's under the table. "There, perfect." "Thank you, Dad. This is the best present ever!" "Ha! I know." I want to show him how much this means to me. I wish I could kiss him. Deeply and fervently. But I know that would just lead me down the road to dejection and disgust. He could never accept a son who is in love with him. The rest of the evening is mostly uneventful. We just eat and talk like usual. Dad drives us home after and I can't help but touch my brand new necklace. The jade feels cool against my skin and I trace the grooves of the engraving with my fingers. Dad is focused on the road so he doesn't notice. He probably has no idea how much receiving a gift from him means. I cherish each and every one. I stare out the window and watch as the suburban houses blur by. If I shut my eyes, I can imagine that I'm being whisked away by my dad to someplace far away. A place where no one knows our name or our biological relation. And there, we can start a new life as lovers. We'd walk down the street hand in hand and no one would bat an eye. A boy can dream. When we make it home, Dad suggests we watch a movie before going to sleep. But I yawn, tell him that I'm tired, and go upstairs. As much as I want to stay up and cuddle with him, there are more pressing matters for me to attend to. The moment I'm alone in my room, I strip off my clothes and toss them into the hamper. I take a look at myself in the full-length mirror and flex. I look hot. My muscles are popping, my stomach is flat, and my cock is plump even when it's flaccid. But I'm not trying to look as tough and burly as my dad. In fact, sometimes I wish I looked smaller. Younger. The size difference between me and Dad turns me on and I like the idea that he could manhandle me so easily. Fuuuuck. Just the thought of him pinning me down in my bed is already making me hard. I'm a horny, hormonal teenager so it doesn't take much to give me an erection. Just the thought of Dad. His manly scent. His tender touch. Anything involving him is enough. I let out a quiet moan as I imagine him in my room right now, hugging me from behind. His pecs on my back, his soft cock in the crevice of my ass. "Oh Daddy," I sigh. Before I forget, I make sure the door is locked. Then I return to the mirror. Despite our differences, Dad and I do look alike. Our brown hair, our bone structure, we even have matching tans. Maybe when I'm older, I'll grow out some facial hair but for now, I like my twinkish looks. Or am I twunkish because I have some meat on me? Regardless, I find myself admiring my body's reflection. My hands start at my chest and glide downward across my abs until they find the base of my cock. I give it a squeeze and tug, biting my lip to keep me from moaning out loud. All the while, I keep thinking about the necklace, the only piece of clothing I have left on me. A piece of my dad on me. I go over to my laptop on my desk and turn it on. I have some porn videos saved from a specific site that features incest porn. Granted it's all fake and they try to circumvent the taboo by calling each other step-father and step-son but it's good enough for jerkoff material. I pull up one of my favorite videos and I stand there playing with myself as I watch the "father" and "son" make out on a couch. I pump my cock slowly, matching the sensual rhythm of the son's hand on his father's hot member. My eyes glaze over as the son slowly goes down on his dad. God, I wish I could do that with my dad. I want to know what he tastes like down there. How he feels in my mouth. How he smells when my nose is in his bush. I want to know so fucking badly. I continue stroking my dick, feeling my foreskin slide across the sensitive, slippery head. It feels like I need something more though. I'm not satisfied with just touching myself. Ugh, I need Dad. But I guess I'll have to settle for the next best thing. Hidden in the deepest recess of my closet is a toy. A dildo. It's slightly smaller than I am, which is fine for my purposes. I found it among Mom's things after she passed. I don't know why she would need it when she had a stud like Dad around. Maybe it was a keepsake from her single life. Either way, I took it from her belongings and hid it in my room. Even back then, I knew inherently that it was naughty for me to have it. Not that I even knew how to use it until my adolescence. That's when I started practicing with it. I grab some lube and squirt it onto the dildo. As I work on slathering the silicon dick from top to bottom, I watch as, in the video, the son straddles his father and gets ready to be penetrated. I've probably seen this part a hundred times but it never gets old. Seeing that smooth hairless hole engulf that monster cock never ceases to amaze and arouse me. I move my laptop to the hardwood floor and suction the toy there too. I hover over it for a moment and I imagine it belongs to my dad. It has no real warmth and it's way too small but I pretend anyway because that's what I need to get off. Then I lower myself. The tip grazes my entrance and I recoil a bit. I reach under to rub my hole with my fingers, inserting a digit to loosen myself up. I always forget to do this because I've taken the toy so often already. Once I'm ready for real though, I lower myself again. Slowly. Slowly. I feel the dildo stretching me out and I exhale in bliss. "Dad," I quietly moan. "Oh Dad, I love you so fucking much." The words dissipate into thin air, unheard by anyone but me. I pick up the pace, bouncing steadily on the dildo. All the while, I watch as the father in the video starts to mercilessly pound his son's hole. My eyes roll back though and I miss the climax. Doesn't matter, all I can focus on is the fact that I'm reaching my own climax. I keep stroking my cock as my ass swallows the toy whole and it's not long before I feel the cum churning in my tightening balls. "Oh fuck," I gasp. "Oh fuck me, Dad!" It's hard to keep quiet when your head is just filled with thoughts of sex. Imagining my father underneath me with his hands behind his head, watching me perversely ride his manhood. I can just hear him encouraging me, praising me. Oh, if only he would touch me. "Dad! Oh fuck! Dad-DADDY!" I arch my back as I feel my orgasm overtake my body. Cum shoots out of my turgid cock in thick white ropes, splattering across my stomach and chest. A drop even splatters on my chin. I guess it has been a while since I last masturbated but I still wasn't expecting that outburst to come out of me. I collapse onto the floor in a sweaty bundle of limbs, breathing hard. A second passes. Then another. And then, a knock at the door. "Alex? Son, you okay in there? I thought I heard a shout." "I-I'm fine!" I manage to stammer out. "I just fell out of bed." "Fell out of bed? Do you need me to--" "No! It's fine. I'm fine, Dad. I'm legally an adult. I don't need you taking care of everything for me." The words stung even if they were true. Sometimes I wish I was still that little boy that needed his daddy taking care of him. It would be nice to have him coddle me. Let me into his room whenever I have a bad nightmare. Kiss me every morning when I get up for school. Tuck me in at night when I've finished my bath. I want Dad to stay. "Well, if you say so." I pull my knees to my chest and listen to his receding footsteps. When it's become silent out there once again, I curl deeper into a ball and start to cry. Tears welling up inside and spilling down my face. I want you, Dad. I want you so fucking bad. But how could you ever want me? Your own son. I want you to love me the way I love you... ... End of Chapter 1