Date: Tue, 18 May 2021 13:15:03 -0500 From: David Ashley Subject: Conquering My Friends' Dads Chapter 10 I love you, my horned-up readers. This time you get some more incest and a double-dadding. Regular disclaimers: This is a story of incest, featuring underage characters, and graphic sexual content. I do not endorse such acts. If you can, please donate to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/ You can email me at bupdash [at] gmail.com. My virtual tip jar is $Bupdash on cash app. Let's see how many of you I can make orgasm today. Chapter 10 -Hey. U up?- The text caught me just before I drifted off. Irked, I rolled over to grab my phone, blinking into the harsh light as I unlocked it. It was from Dan. The hell did he want? It was not like him to text me this late. I reflected that I had, I supposed, been neglecting him. How long had it been since Dan and I had properly hung out? I hadn't even let him suck me off in ages--frankly, I did not need to, with so many dads on the team to keep me busy. So, guilt won out. -Yeah. What's up?- -Dude my dad's driving me crazy- I smirked. -In what way?- -He keeps bothering me about when u coming over again- I sighed. Looking up from my bed, I could just see my list in the semidarkness. Mr. Meydrich had been amazing. In fact, the man was so--well, `giving' might be the word--in bed, that we had met up several more times that week. Always while his son Jim was working. And I was getting addicted. Meydrich. What a bro. So grateful. And getting very, very skilled. But that was only one name on my list. And those earlier names were getting agitated. If it wasn't Mr. Meydrich texting "-please come breed me my son is gone today-" it was Mr. Johnson or Mr. Etter. A perverse part of me wished more of these men were like Mr. Cole, and would just channel their energy into their own sons; I was, after all, only one man. (Hmm. There was an idea...) And now, poor Mr. Grayson was dealing with some pent-up frustration. The sexy, professional, suit-wearing lawyer. With the gray temples and the reluctant screams. He didn't deserve that. Dan sent another text. -Can you please just come over so he'll stop asking?- -You are actually asking me to fuck your dad?- -Not like you needed my permission before- said Dan, -but yeah- I considered. It was late, and a school night, and my parents were usually pretty chill but they would almost certainly notice me driving off somewhere this close to midnight. -You'll have to make it worth it for me- I told Dan. -How- I could sense alarm in the immediacy of Dan's reply. -U want me to suck you again?- -No- I said. -You're gonna help me get to Melvin's dad.- One of the next names on my list. Melvin Dell was close to Dan. He had been Dan's tutor for a bit last year, and Dan had gone over to his place a few times to hang out since. It had been because of Dan that Melvin had joined the soccer team in the first place. Apparently, however, loyalty only went so far when your father was horned up for your friend. -Deal- said Dan. Then, he followed up with a strange text: -Which one?- Oh yes. Melvin's parents were divorced. He had a father AND a stepfather. I smirked again at my phone. -Both.- "Where you off to, buddy?" I paused at the door. Dad hovered at the stairs, peering down at me over the railing. Okay, look. I know I was getting really, really horned up at my dad lately, but that moment I was contemplating Mr. Grayson's mouth and nursing a semi from the thought of HIM. Usually, things were the other way around. I would get a hard-on for dad and the father of one of my friends would suffer for it. This was counter to my safety nets. Dad was in very dangerous territory. Especially since he was just wearing a robe and shorts. Tight boxer briefs that hugged his hips and legs. That dick I respected so much--the one I had come from. And of COURSE Dad would leave his robe open and dangling, of course he would leave his chest and rippling belly just visible. He had no idea how much I wanted him as I looked up. How much danger he was in. How much I considered walking back up the stairs, pressing my hand over his mouth to silence his screams, and dragging him back to my room to rape the shit out of him. Instead I cleared my throat. "Dan needs a hand with something," I said. "It's kinda late, don't ya think, son?" "It'll be fine, Dad," I said, flashing a smile. I made sure to let my dimple pop. "You know me. I wouldn't be going out if he didn't really need help." "Anything I can do for you boys?" If only. "No. Just adolescent angst, nothing for you to worry about. Still. He's my best bro." I gave him big, innocent eyes. And my father melted. He walked down the stairs. I watched his hand slide down the railing, watched his robe flutter as he stepped toward me. I watched his face soften as his eyes met mine. Dad pulled me into a hug. No, no, not good--Dad was wearing practically nothing. He had no jeans, no pants to block my touch, he was certain to feel my hard-on against his hip. A proud kiss on my temple. A powerful squeeze of my torso. Oh, fuck it. I felt my cock grind into his hip, just barely touching his own bulge, felt his heat, felt him press back-- Or did he? Was I imagining things? Dad pulled away again, keeping his hand cupped at the back of my neck. "You're such a good boy," he said. "A good friend. I'm proud of you, big guy." "Thanks, Daddy." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. No, no! I had not called him `Daddy' since I was a child--otherwise, I only used it on grown men I had my dick buried in. But I couldn't help it. Just as I couldn't seem to move my hands from the small of his back, wishing I could pull his hips back into me-- "Don't be out too late," he said. A pat. Another kiss on my forehead. A ruffle of my hair. And Dad pulled away. "Well, I'm surprised you're here so late!" Mrs. Grayson smiled indulgently across the kitchen island. If it had been approaching midnight when I left my place, it was just after now. Their house had a vacant, cave-like quality in the dark, all high ceilings and reflective surfaces. I stood, grinding my hard-on against the granite countertop. Dan hovered next to me like the servile beta he was, shifting as I stirred the drink in my hands. "Yeah," I said. "Helping Dan with a project. Here, Mrs. Grayson--I made you a drink." One of her eyebrows shot up. "Don't worry!" I said. "My mom has me make drinks for her all the time. It's not that strong, just a tiny buzz to help her sleep. A small gin sour." Women. So fucking easy. Smile enough, bat your eyes, nod at her. She's fucking putty in your hands. Mrs. Grayson thanked me, sipping the small drink. "Oh! That's lovely," she said. "Just trying to be a good guest," I said. "I might be over a while, working down in the basement with Dan. I hope we don't wake you." "Oh, that's sweet of you," she grinned. She took another sip, which turned into a swig as she downed it. "Mmm. Your mother has good taste. And you're always welcome, John." She patted my arm, then turned to go. I pushed against the counter, watching her depart down the hall, then, still grinding my dick into the island, I leaned toward Dan. "She wouldn't thank me if she knew I was about to fuck her husband. Or if she knew I'd just slipped her sleeping pills." Dan sputtered, rounding on me. "You WHAT?" "Shh. Calm the fuck down. They're safe, just some lunesta. I don't want her interrupting us, do you? You want her finding out your dad's a big whore?" He glowered. Man, I had pissed him off. It was kind of cute. "Dude, you just drugged my mom." "Yep. So I can fuck your dad. And?" Dan shrugged. He looked away, glaring at the floor. "I fucking hate you sometimes." I am such a prick. I clapped my hand over his shoulders, squeezing his young muscle. "I know. But you will thank me tonight, I promise." Now Dan eyed me suspiciously. "Why?" "You'll see. Where is your dad?" "I told him you're coming. He said he would wait in the basement for you." Dan sighed. "I just fucking enabled you. Both of you. Set it up so you can fuck my dad. I can't believe this shit." "Aww, you like it," I said. Again, I'm a prick. I kissed his cheek, which blossomed red. He had a real shapely cheekbone-to-jaw ratio. "Admit it." Dan blushed, glaring at me. But he turned. He faced me. Huh. This was an intriguing development. Dan was almost as tall as me now. He had been working out, too, lately. His shirt bulged as his chest heaved. In the middle of his kitchen, Dan descended to his knees. I let him look up at me. I let him unzip the front of my jeans. "You're a real asshole, you know that?" said Dan, taking my hard cock in his hand. He ran his fist up and down, jerking me slowly. "I know," I said. I winked at him. "You love me for it, too. Love my prick." "Fuck you," he said, licking underneath, his tongue lapping my balls. "Fuck you. This cock is so big." "The prick that's about to go fuck your dad," I said. I chuckled. "You get off on this." Dan took me in one, powerful, expert slurp. Suddenly his lips were at the base of my dick, his nose pressing into my pubes, the head of my cock pressing at his throat. He gagged, but only a little. Then he sucked--actualy sucked, letting his mouth pull me as he moved back up. "I get off on something," Dan admitted. "Don't know what." I pulled him off, pinching his lips as I pressed my fingers, hard, into his cheeks. I turned his face, made him look at me. He really was a cute guy. Blonde hair had a curl to it. Face all red at the moment. I slapped him, lightly. "Don't go making me cum," I said. "I'm going to go drop a load in your dad." Then I bent over, putting my mouth to his ear. Just because, again, I'm an asshole, I licked it. Then I let him feel my lips smile. "But listen. Here's what you're going to do," I said. "In about ten minutes, you're coming down to join me." "But--" "Fucking shut up." I shook him, still gripping his face. "You're going to come down. You have a job to do. You have an obligation to your father, and I'm busy. I can't always play go-between." "I don't want to--" "Shut up. You're going to do what I say because you fucking love me, don't you?" He glared at me. "Yes. I love you, man." "Good boy. Get me a bit more wet. As much spit as you can." He complied. Of course he did. He lathered up my cock with as much saliva as he could. I kicked off my pants and shirt, leaving my clothes in his kitchen as he prepped me. Then, moving quickly so Dan's spit didn't dry, I moved to the basement. "Hello, Mr. Grayson." This man really hated himself. He could hardly look at me. There he was--still fully clothed, the slut, but sitting on the floor. He had spread a towel out under his suited form. "H--hi," said Mr. Grayson. "John. I--sorry, I just." "You missed me." He nodded, still too ashamed to look at me. "Take off your pants. And unbutton your shirt, you know I like looking at your chest." He trembled. He hated everything he had become. This man was a slut. A whore for teenage cock. He had once been a powerful, confident lawyer. I broke him. He reached for the fastenings at his knees. "No," I said. "Keep those on. You wear sock garters?" "Some--sometimes," said Mr. Grayson. "I wore them today. Because. I thought you might like it." He was more red-faced than his son. Who was I to deny this man his needs? I had made him. I had to take that responsibility, now. I got to my knees, dripping a bit of my own spit to join Dan's, rubbing my cock to make sure it was all wet. Then I pushed at his hole. "You want me to fuck you?" "Please." I kissed him as his son's spit lubed his hole. His own son's saliva split those daddy cheeks. He cried out. "Shh." I fucked him. I was in no rush, holding back. I gave him long, slow strokes. I watched his toes curl in frustration--I'm a prick, I know. I only just barely brushed his prostate. I flirted with it, refusing to truly hit it. I needed to wean him off me. And the most convenient target was upstairs. Waiting. Timing my command. Wondering if he could do what I had told him to do. "Remember the first time?" I said. Mr. Grayson panted, struggling against my cock. My size. "You forced yourself on me," he said. "I raped you." He nodded. "You raped me." "And you came. You begged me for more." "Yes. More." I lifted those thick daddy legs. His socks, covering up to his knees, were made of a sheer, silky material. They had a ripe smell. I pulled his big toe into my mouth, letting my tongue wet his sock. "I'm fucking you," I said. "But you want more, don't you?" "What?" I leered down at him. "Mr. Grayson, I can't always be here to fill you up. You think I belong to you? Think you can keep this cock all to yourself?" Were those tears? His eyes sparkled. "No. Never." "But you wish you could." "I wish I could." "Mr. Grayson, it's time to take your real son." Now tears really did come. I expected a protest. I knew he hated himself. Hated the idea. But he needed it, too. "Yes," he whispered. "I need my son's dick." Figured. A dad can't be fucked by me without eventually wondering what their own son would be like. I looked over my shoulder. Dan hovered at the basement stairs, my clothes wadded up under one arm. But the shock on his face? The tremble? He had heard. "Come here, Dan," I said. Dan did. He removed his clothes. Mr. Grayson gasped as his son removed his tight shirt, revealing his hard-earned, smooth abs. That treasure trail of blond hair. Dropping his pants to reveal a surprisingly sizeable dick. "Oh, my boy..." I removed my cock from Mr. Grayson's ass. Shifting, I positioned myself at his head. I gripped his shoulders. "Mr. Grayson," I said, "look at your boy. You love him, don't you?" "God yes. Dan. Son. I love you." "You want his cock, don't you?" "I want it so much." I grinned at Dan, who glared at me. "See, Dan?" I said. "Your daddy wants you." "What have you done to him?" said Dan. I shrugged. "You're welcome, man. You'll thank me. He has an amazing ass." "Please, Son!" moaned Mr. Grayson. "Please!" "You made him like this," said Dan. I shrugged. "I took what I wanted. I don't fucking regret it." "You broke him." "And YOU get to benefit," I said. "Are you going to deny him, or not?" Mr. Grayson moaned and pleaded again. Dan shook his head at me, even as he relented. Even as his face gave into lust. He leaned in, and I kissed him. He deserved it, after all. Least I could do. Then Dan pushed his very big, very erect cock forward. He pressed at his dad's door. "I'm sorry, Dad," said Dan. "I can't stop myself. I have to fuck you." "Fuck me, Son!" begged Mr. Grayson. "Do it! I want it!" And in he went. I had promised my dad I wouldn't be out too late. Well, fuck him. I was at the Grayson's all night. While his mom snoozed upstairs, Dan and I filled the basement with the sounds of grunts, cries, and the occasional shout. We filled the basement with the smell of man--of teenaged boy, of daddy hole, of Mr. Grayson's cologne, of dried spit, and of cum. Mr. Grayson received load after load of his son's cum. He drank load after load of mine. Remember, I was weaning him off my dick, getting him addicted to his son's--and Dan was not very experienced. Still, I would take my turn, angling my dick just right to frustrate Mr. Grayson. Then Dan was inside his dad, pounding like a jackrabbit. And with all that fucking (and that size Dan had!) he was bound to hit Daddy's prostate. When Mr. Grayson came, shooting rope after rope of cum from his son's pounding, I knew my job was finished. Call me generous. Bringing those two together into proper incest. I hadn't INTENDED it, or planned on it, but hell. It was convenient. I only had so much. Could only handle so many daddies at a time. And after Mr. Cole, Mr. Vane, and Mr. Grayson responded so well, I started to branch out. In a way, maybe I was pushing my friends into incest with their dads because I wanted it so bad with my own. Living vicariously through them. Fucking over their normal, healthy, happy relationships with their fathers into a perveted and incestuous one because I ached for it. Because I wanted to ruin someone else the way I wanted to ruin Dad. But fuck, it cleared my schedule. I revisited Mr. Cole and Andrew for advice. They welcomed me in right away; I could barely get two words in edgewise before both father and son were pushing me to the bed--which, I think, they had started to share as much as possible. In a few moments Mr. Cole was riding me, my cock snug in his hole, and Andrew--cute, muscly, himbo-beta Andrew--was standing on the bed behind, crouching down to slide his cock in alongside mine. He was really learning to take initiative. "Oh!" Mr. Cole's mustache quivered. He stared at the ceiling, not seeing it, his face a mask of rapture. "Oh. Oh fuck. Oh I'm so full." I reached up to grip his big, beefy, hairy tits. "Been a while, Mr. C. Fucking nail him, Andrew." Andrew did, speeding up roughly. Mr. Cole whined, feeling his hole stretch at the brutality of his pummeling. "I fucking missed this," he gasped. When at last we all came--several times--I let myself collapse between them. Mr. Cole put a fatherly arm around my shoulders, while Andrew curled up into my side, his head resting on my chest. I gotta admit, it was a bit wild. "So," I managed. My throat was dry. "I take it you two have been well." Mr. Cole chuckled. "Better. Better than ever. You have no idea." His hand moved to caress his son's head. "Been meaning to thank you. You made this possible." "Hey, I was just horny," I said. They both chuckled at that. Biting my lip, I managed the question I really wanted to ask. "So. Look. Are you two--well. Are you okay? Did I, I dunno--fuck you guys up?" I did not actually care. Did I? Did I really give a shit if I had made this blue-collar dad, this cute, muscly teen--if I had rendered their relationship dysfunctional for life? I sort of felt affection for them. I think. But I didn't LOVE them or anything. They were bodies. Sleeves for my dick. Hot. But, I didn't really CARE... Mr. Cole's hand returned to my head now. He cradled me into him, and I felt his wet mustache on my forehead. "Aw, John. Look at you. Going all soft on us." "Fuck you," I said. Andrew grinned up, watching happily as his dad stroked my cheek. Mr. Cole, meanwhile, ran his other hand along my torso. "John," he said, "there's nothing better in the world. No sex compares to sex with your own son. You don't understand how much I love my Andrew." "Aw, thanks, pop," said Andrew. "So--so you don't regret crossing that line." I felt Mr. Cole look at me. I knew he was wondering if I was asking for ME. For my dad. Asking about crossing that line with Detective Field. He did not ask, though. For which I was grateful. "I don't," said Mr. Cole. "Never. You, son?" Andrew lifted up, crawling forward to kiss his father. "Not in a million years, Dad." Maybe it shouldn't matter, but I didn't feel as guilty after that. He kind of hated me, but good 'ole Dan was also grateful--as grateful as the Coles, it seemed. I received a few texts of thanks. I even got a great selfie of Dan with his dad's mouth on him, sucking him off. And he was as good as his word; my phone buzzed with a call about two days later. It was after school, and I was at Mr. Johnson's house. Hey, I needed to wean him off, too. So I picked up my phone, tapping the button as I directed Julian's hips. "Like that," I instructed. "Try that angle, he likes it. Dan? What's up?" "You're ruining another guy's dad, aren't you?" said Dan. "Maybe," I grinned. "Julian, go slower. Mr. Johnson can't take it right away, he needs to be eased into it." To Dan, I said, "Julian's skinny, but damn. That boy has a big cock. Doesn't he, Mr. Johnson? Say hi." I held my phone to Mr. Johnson's ear. His deep voice rumbled a "Hi--hi--oh, fuck, son, that feels so good!" I chuckled, bringing my phone back. "How are things with YOUR dad, Dan?" "Fine," said Dan. "He sucked me all night last night. I'm still dehydrated. Anyway, I think I figured out a way you can get at Melvin's." My stomach jumped. "Yeah?" "Yeah. His stepdad--Frank is his name, Frank Hunter--he asked me today if I could come and clean his pool. Willing to pay. Fifty bucks for an hour of work." "Nice." "And, dude--I don't think you'll have trouble getting him. That man is sex on a stick. I honestly think he was trying to hire me to fuck ME." "Now that's intriguing." "I told him I've been busy, but that my buddy John needs work. That he could really use the cash." "YOU, Dan," I said, as I dangled my balls over Mr. Johnson's lips, "are a bro." "Yeah, yeah." For a moment, the funny, cocky Dan was back. The Dan that had floated to my side as I had developed into an alpha. Who had been kind even back when I was still scrawny. The Dan that adored me. "I know. I'm such a stud," he joked. "You are," I said. "Send me Frank's number. And tell your dad hi for me." I could hear Dan's grin. "You got it." Over text, Frank was nice enough. He seemed professional. He gave me a list of duties, asking if I thought I could handle it. In answer, I sent him a shirtless selfie. I held one arm up, flexing my bicep. -I think I can handle it- I said. Bold, sure. But I wanted to test the waters a bit. And his reply came instantly. -Impressive, kid- Melvin was in Dan's neighborhood--the rich part of town. I knew the kid dressed well, and would show up to school in clothes worth more than the other kids' put together, but as I drove up his long drive I couldn't help marvel a bit. A large gate, with an immaculate lawn and garden out front. They had a circular drive in front, and the front of the house was guarded by columns. It all looked both very old and very, very fancy. Shit. Melvin's mom was loaded. And, as I spotted the stud she had bought, opening the door, I realized her wealth had been put to some good use. He made my dick twitch. "Hey there. John, right?" "Yes sir," I said. I stepped out of my car, and accepted Frank Hunter's handshake. "Wow. YOU'RE Melvin's stepdad?" Frank laughed. "Yep. I know, I don't look it." He did not. Jesus, how much was Melvin's mother shelling out to keep this stud in her bed? Frank Hunter looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie ad. He was tall, at least as much as I was, with a long, lithe torso. He wore a tiny shirt that hugged his chest, allowing his sleeves to ride up his shoulders--goddamn, those arms were nice. Not huge. He wasn't a bodybuilder--at least, not for size. But this man was definitely hitting the gym for the aesthetics. And his face. Maybe I'm a judgmental ass, but I'd met Melvin's mom, and that old, ugly WASP had no business with a man as young as this. He had cut cheekbones and a good jaw--I was reminded, vividly, of Taron Egerton. "How old are you?" I blurted out. He barked a laugh. "I know, kid. I know. People can't believe we're together. Come in--I'm twenty-eight. Here, you can leave your shoes there." He escorted me to the door. I felt his hand on my shoulder, at the small of my back. Jeez, I was not used to this. See, dads are easy. Men who have actually sired their own offspring. Men who were aging, in their late thirties and forties, desperate to feel young again. When I had my youth on my side, men swooned faster. But Frank. He was hot. Conventionally so, and almost oppressively so. Every bit as handsome as me--if not more. I had muscle on him, but barely. My youth wouldn't help me here. I almost felt threatened. Almost. The foyer was as big as my whole damn house. The floors were all white granite, all immaculately clean. I kicked off my shoes as Frank hovered, watching me closely. He never seemed far from a smile. Instinctively, I wondered how he would respond to compliments. After all, he was a trophy husband. I shook my head, and gave a low whistle. "Twenty-eight. Jesus, man. You must be a stud." Frank did not blush. He grinned. No--the man BEAMED at my compliment. "Hey, thanks!" he said, his hands on his hips. Like he was posing. "I try. But that's sweet of you, kid. You can't be that much younger than me--eighteen? Nineteen?" I knew exactly what he was doing. I felt him size me up, felt his eyes take me in. I knew the look--and, knowing Melvin's mom, he was likely desperate for some action on the side. Even if it was from a man. Maybe especially if it was from a man. I knew when a man wanted me. I noticed him adjust the front of his shorts. Oh, yes; he wanted me to see his bulge. I indulged him, looking down at the front of his pants--and, honestly? It really was huge. "I'm not," I said. "I'm actually fifteen." I almost laughed. Was he disappointed? Shit, the man smirked. Again, his eyes sized me up. "Well, kid, you must work out. You're impressive--for your age. Honestly, I still feel like a teenager myself." "I bet you do." He winked. "Anyway, we should get started." I followed Frank through the house. It seemed to take ages to reach the backyard. We passed through a cavernous kitchen, onto an elaborate porch. The Dells' pool was olympic-sized, and I realized at once that this damn pool boy job would be a lot of trouble. "Net's over there," said Frank. "You good to get started?" "Sure." I raised an eyebrow, noticing his eyes on me again. In one swift move, I removed my shirt. "It's hot," I said. "Might be nice to get some sun while I work." He nodded, his eyes lingering appreciatively over my chest. Then, glancing around, he pulled off his shirt, too. "You're right," said Frank. "Might be nice." Dammit. It was like a competition, but I don't think I won that round. My torso was nicely cut, but the winter had rendered me a bit paler than I would have liked. Meanwhile, Frank was evenly tanned, perfectly smooth, and his torso was shaped like a long triangle. Wide enough shoulders and chest, long, thin waist--his build was Ryan Reynolds. A fifteen-year old, even one like me, was bound to come up a touch short against a man in his prime. I got to work. As I pulled the net through the water, letting my muscles flex and knowing he was watching, Frank lounged. He lay back in a pool chair, letting that nicely-tanned body sun in my direction. "You want something to drink?" Frank called. I watched him lift a glass of iced tea, watched as the condensation dripped from the glass to his chest. I watched it dribble onto his abs, and I saw him grin, touching the water. Letting it catch the light. "No, sir," I said. I flashed a grin back at him. I gripped the pole of the net, letting my arms flex a bit. "But if I keep going, I'm sure I'll get pretty thirsty." He was competing with me. We were playing a game, both trying to entice the other. Flirting with a dangerous, careful line between us. Damn it. I wondered for a second if I had met my match. He was very, very good at turning a man on. I realized that it made sense--he truly was a trophy. A sugar baby. This was a man who owned his sexuality, whose job, more or less, was to simply be HOT. He was confident and knew he could rile me up. But as he made another pointed squeeze of his shorts--presenting his bulge once more--I think I sensed something. Not only was this man used to gay sex--I got a strong bisexual vibe from him--this man was a top. Well. At least, so he thought. And looking at his bulge, he probably got plenty of people to bottom for him. This really wouldn't be easy. I finished cleaning the pool, feeling the man's eyes on me. I wondered what was going through his head. This trophy husband, lounging while a young and muscular teenager worked for him. He measured his chances. Toyed with the idea of fucking an underage boy. I worked up a sweat, letting my torso glisten as I wrapped up. "Well," I said. "I think that about does it." He remained in his chair, smiling blithely up at me. "Good job, kid." I approached. As I did, looking him over--the sunglasses were an interesting addition, and damn, the man didn't have a scrap of fat on him--I felt myself bone up. I wondered if I should hide it. I did not. I stood over him, letting my tent stand. "I guess I should head out now," I said, "unless there's something else you'd like me to do for you." It was hard to tell, but I was pretty damn sure he eyed my tent. I saw his eyebrows arch over his glasses. I felt him deciding. Trying to tell if HE should relent, or if I would. Two tops, staring each other down. I think he decided to stall. "You horny, kid?" I smirked. "I'm always horny." "Respectable size there. You even horny for an old man like me?" Fucking idiot. Dudes in their late twenties, thinking they're old. Not realizing I've fucked men twice his age. Not realizing that those old studs could probably fuck him under the table. But I played his game. "Even for an old man like you." I saw his hands go to his cock. His final bid, a trump card, hoping I would be the one to submit. He pulled his shorts down. Jesus Christ. This cock was enormous. Frank Hunter really WAS a stud--literally. He had a donkey dick. The big, veiny thing flopped up, landing with a heavy thud on his abs. Uncut. The kind of cock that tapered out, thickening around the middle, and narrowed again at the tip. Holy fuck, he was hung. To this day, I have never seen a bigger cock--length OR girth. His cock reached his goddamn nipples, and fuck beer cans. He sported a damn gatorade bottle. I stiffened. I'll admit it, I'm not proud--a tiny, tiny part of me wanted to reach out. Grab it. Taste it, even--I had never sucked a dick before, and probably never would, but this one got the closest to tempting ever. Well, except for my own dad's dick, perhaps. But a much, much larger part of me wanted to render that massive dick completely useless. So I scoffed. And I dropped my shorts. "Suck my cock, old man." Fucking hilarious. And hot. That confusion. The shock that his donkey dick--his trump card--hadn't worked. The way his jaw dropped. Of course, I took advantage of his shock. I stepped forward, propping a leg up on his chair as I gripped his skull. Pushed my cock easily into his mouth. I had him. It was that easy. Scoff at his dick, force your own into his throat--and, just like that, the stud is broken. I guide his movements, making him take every inch down, then a few back up, before spearing his throat again. He sputtered but swallowed his gags, and soon he stopped trying to pull away. I let go of his head, but by now Frank was sucking on his own. Moving down, swallowing, and then back up, taking a quick breath before repeating. "Good job," I said. "You're not bad, old man." A red face looked up at me. He grunted. "I shouldn't. You're a teenager." "And you get off on that, don't you?" He blushed. "Well--" "You really do have an issue with your age? Think fucking a teenager's ass will keep you young?" "I--" "You would've tried to nail Dan, wouldn't you?" His lips popped off my balls. I could just see his expression behind his sunglasses. Big, rapturous, fuck-me eyes. "Yes." "Shame you got me. Dan's an expert cocksucker. But I don't give a shit about your dick." He shuddered, obviously turned on. I pressed. "Your cock is useless, Frank." "No--" NOW he gagged. A last attempt. "No, I'm a top. I don't get fucked." I laughed, directing him back down. "You do today," I said. Several minutes passed. Several potent, loaded minutes of deep, desperate sucking. The trophy husband, desperate to stay young, eagerly lapping at the young boy's cock. At last, with a whimper, he said, "I do today." I directed him inside. We had passed an enormous, gleaming glass table on the way through the house--a sort of informal dining table, or a breakfast nook, separate from the formal dining room. Rich people, man. I had an itch to fuck him over that table. "No," he protested. "We should go up to my room, Melvin'll be home soon, his dad's dropping him off." I wanted to say "Good. Let's let your stepson see what a whore you are." Instead, I said, "I can't fucking wait. Bend over." "I don't--" But I pushed him, and his lovely, sinewy back bent to my will. I pressed him down, and he gasped as his chest pressed against the cold glass table. He kicked off his shorts. No tan line--he tanned nude. And that hole was bleached. He might not have wanted anything inside there, but he DID want people to see. To show off this ass. Well, I would reward his hard work. Hell, I couldn't help it; I had to taste this man. I bent down, shoving my tongue between his cheeks. "OH!" Funny how a guy will be a total dude one second. Then the next, the minute his hole is touched, he becomes a squirming bitch. I dug deeper. He had a true cherry back here. It fought against my tongue, refusing entrance. "It'll be a lot easier for you," I said, spitting on his hole, "if you open up. Relax for me." "Kid, this is so risky!" He squirmed again. "I don't--dammit, this is my meal ticket, I can't--" At last, I forced my tongue into his hole. He screamed. Actually SCREAMED. I pulled back, just for a second. I watched his massive donkey dick swinging between his legs. Watched as it twitched. Frank Hunter did not fight anymore as I dove back in. He tasted of sweat and coconut oil--which I found, conveniently, on a nearby counter, and which I began lathering my dick with. His hole was salty and sweet at once, and it opened up for my tongue like a goddamn flower in the sun. He hardly seemed to have energy to lift himself up--that's the thing about these hot guys. No effort, don't need to work for it. He lounged on the glass table, his smooth ass riding my mouth, moaning like a bitch in heat. I stood back up. Lifting him from the table, I kissed his back and neck as I put my cock against his wet hole. "You are such a slut, aren't you?" I said. He moaned in answer. I looked down, seeing that massive dong twitch through the glass table. He was oozing precum. A long line fell to the granite floor, catching the light. I entered him. He gasped, and immediately came. Holy fuck. Top, my ass. Maybe he was simply so turned on. Maybe it was because he was so sensitive, having never been fucked; maybe it was his narrow hips and muscled ass that made his prostate so easy to reach. Maybe I was an eager fucker who had shoved my full length in all at once. Either way, over his shoulder I watched him paint the kitchen floor with his thick, heavy sprays of cum. He cried out again, squirming, trying to get me out of him. "Shh, shh," I said. I held him, gripping his smooth, heaving chest. "Dude. Don't be such a baby." "It hurts," he gasped. "Please stop, I can't--" "You don't want me to stop," I said. "But it'll hurt for a bit. Especially now you've cum. Sorry, but I have to fuck you." "Please--" I pulled out, and he tried to pull away--but I gripped his hips, shoving back in. "No! Oh!" What a little bitch. I waited as he adjusted. I'm too goddamn nice for my own good. When he seemed to finally come down, off his orgasm at last, I fucked into him again. "Ohhh myyyy GODDD--" I gave Frank Hunter a fast, cruel pounding. Maybe I should've gone easier on him, but I sensed another orgasm brewing in him right away, and I knew I had to get off quickly. So I gripped his hips, plowing into his tiny hole with quick, furious thrusts. That donkey dick bounced, useless underneath him, slapping the glass with my thrusts. I felt myself gear up for my nut. My balls leapt up, and I forced my way into Frank's warm ass. Here it came-- Frank was crying out again, spraying his second load-- And the front door was opening. I coated Frank's insides as Melvin entered the kitchen. Momentarily I lost my eyesight, my orgasm was so intense; when it came back, I saw that Melvin was not alone. Melvin's biological father looked a lot like him. Gruff, stocky. Thick in the best places. The only difference between them was Mr. Dell's handlebar mustache, twitching in shock at us now. He stared at the scene, watched as I quivered, my cock still twitching in his rival's asshole. He sneered as he took in Frank Hunter, the stud his ex wife had bought, laid out after his second orgasm, panting for breath. "What the fuck," said Melvin. I, however, grinned. I ignored my teammate completely. "Hi, Mr. Dell. John Field. Nice to finally meet you." In a long, slow stroke, so he could see the cum dripping from Frank's hole, I pulled out. "Would you like a turn?" "No--no!" Frank moaned. "What the FUCK," Melvin repeated. But I saw the satisfaction click into place behind Mr. Dell's eyes. Watched that mustache twist. He stepped forward, and I felt his rough hand grip me in a handshake. Watched him size up my naked body. "Melvin," said Mr. Dell, "go up to your room." "You can't just--" "Do it," he barked. Melvin glared. Both father figures, one broken, his donkey dick still oozing uselessly. The other lifting his shirt to reveal a silvery, hairy chest. Then me, smirking at him, my cock still dripping. He turned on his heel and left. "Now," said Mr. Dell, "I've been waiting for this moment. Come here, boy. I want you to fuck me while I finish destroying this guy's hole." "Yes, sir," I said.