Date: Thu, 22 Jul 2021 16:55:00 -0700 From: David Ashley Subject: Conquering My Friends' Dads Chapter 12 Oooooh boy. I'm so sorry for the delay, guys. I recently moved across the country. Because of this, it's been difficult to get a chapter even DONE, much less posted. I promise I didn't mean to fall off like that. I was usually very good at responding to emails, but with the move I have failed to do that, too. If you emailed in the last month or so--especially if you have a specific question--I encourage you to email again. I'll try hard to keep up from here on out, and respond to every person. A quick note for this chapter: This one is a bit story/character-heavy. It's a little shorter, and is meant to piggyback off of the end of the previous chapter, with John feeling... well, let's say `off.' There's still sex, but it might take a slight backseat here. I PROMISE, this one is an unusual chapter, and the next will be back to our usual lewd shenanigans. I hope you can all enjoy it despite not following the pattern established so far. If you've made it this far with me, and with John, I want to thank you. I also hope you'll trust me as we approach the end of John's tale. I had one person comment about why some of it felt `rushed' or why some of the sex happens `offscreen.' My only response is that this is written from John's perspective. If you haven't noticed, he's a bit of a dick; that's what's fun about him, but my intention as a writer is to zero-in on what interests HIM. And he's much more focused on his next target than what happens to his `conquered' harem afterwards. Again: he's a dick. But maybe he can develop? Also, that's partially just my style; I think there's something very erotic about deeply fucked-up or intense sex mentioned in a casual way. I hope that comes through with this chapter. 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. Chapter 12 What fascinated me about all the sick shit I was doing? Nobody stopped me. Nobody WANTED to stop me. I have no fucking clue why. I was an underage boy inviting sex with full-grown adult men. I was (sometimes forcibly) fucking straight men so severely they questioned their sexuality. Or I was doing it to their adolescent sons. And I didn't stop there--I was now forcing them into incestuous situations and relationships with each other. Yep, that's right. Mr. Etter, Mr. Vreeland, and Mr. Ishida--all of my dad's poker buddies, all of whom I've fucked--were now getting railed by their own sons. Sam Etter was a naturally curious guy. I let him see a picture on my phone ("accidentally" of course) of his dad, from the neck down. It was a great photo, Mr. Etter all twisted on his bed, with his hairy ass plainly visible. When Sam asked me about it, I said it was a guy I was fucking. Yeah, I know. Bold. But what the fuck was he gonna do? My team was not about to question my masculinity. And Sam said he was "impressed." "Next time," I said, "I'll let you know. You can come tag-team him with me." Sam had laughed, but shot me a sort of `Are you serious?' look. I smirked back, and he blushed. Mr. Etter had been bugging me for another go, so we met up in his room one day while his family was out. But I texted Sam, as I did so. Sam was a bro. Didn't even show surprise when the location I told him was his own parents' bedroom. Be there in five, he said. He snuck in while I was buried in Mr. Etter's sizeable ass, his face pressed into his pillows. I pulled out, and Sam pushed in. Then I left, and Mr. Etter got the lucky miracle of looking up to see that I had been replaced by his own son. Tom Vreeland was trickier. I ended up having to fuck the poor, pimpled kid, one day after practice. Dan helped hold him down, and the showers muffled his protests. Yeah, not nice of me. Forcing him like that. But he was a `good' boy. Brought up by his `good' dad. Church-going, all that; it would have been hard to convince him without hitting the kid's prostate. But he conceded, eventually, as I bottomed out in his hole. "No, no, no--oh. Oh wow." "You know who really enjoyed this?" I said. "Your dad." Dan smirked. He leaned over, easing his cock into Tom's mouth as he kissed me. I let him, but fuck it, Dan sometimes trampled all over my style. Anyway. A few quick texts to Mr. Vreeland that week, and I knew Tom had started fucking his dad. I wondered who was the top, or if they were the switching type; either way, I got a heartfelt thank you from Mr. Vreeland, with a selfie of the two of them. Tom's face was buried in his dad's thin chest, and they were both grinning. Mr. Ishida was a lot easier than I had thought. He honestly did all the work for me. I snuck a look at his son Joey's cock one day in the shower. And--holy fcuk. The dude was bigger than me. By far. This tall asian kid had a cock nearly as big as Frank Hunter's. He had a monster, easily eleven inches and as thick as my own. I snuck a surreptitious picture, and sent it to Mr. Ishida. I can only assume Mr. Ishida had taken it to the next logical place, and seduced his own son. I couldn't blame him; after getting him addicted to a cock that was simply too big, it was only to be expected that he wanted--needed--more. "How the hell did you take that?" I asked Mr. Ishida, later, after another poker night. I had to keep my voice low, with my dad in the other room. Mr. Ishida frowned, considering. "Have you ever googled `extreme fisting?'" "I've seen something like that," I said. "And the big swollen assholes after?" "You're not--" "Well, let's just say that after my son--well, I need time to recover." So, yeah. Maybe I was ruining families. But I didn't care. I did it because I was horny and I wanted to. And every single one of them thanked me for it. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised about the next logical step: that someone would ASK me for it. I was getting very close to my goal. Fuck it if I could tell you what I was going to do AFTER I'd fucked the entire team's dads, but I wasn't thinking about that. I was focused on the last names on my list. Mr. Jones. Mr. Lopez. Robby Dorian's older brother. And Coach Call. After practice one day, as I was stepping out of the locker room and into the school parking lot, I noticed someone making a beeline for me. I hesitated at my car. How convenient. "Mr. Lopez." Mr. Lopez cast several furtive glances around as he walked toward me. Fuck the man--he tended to wear rather nice clothes, and currently donned a sleek, shiny pair of slacks and a shirt so tight I marveled at the strength of its buttons. And Mr. Lopez was ripped. The fabric hugged his round biceps, folded under his impressive pecs, and strained around his meaty thighs. I watched as he removed a pair of sunglasses to squint at me. "Hey. Field." "What's up?" Mr. Lopez was a much lighter-skinned Latino, lighter even than his son Vinny. He kept his head bald and shiny--honestly, I think he did it because he spent so much time with Mr. Jones, as Vinny and Jamal were friends. Mr. Jones was bald, with a sleek, shiny head, and I think Mr. Lopez wanted to emulate his friend's look. But this only worked in his favor, completing his aggressively masculine appearance. The only hair that seemed to exist on his head--on his body, I was willing to bet--were his eyebrows, which furrowed as he took me in. "Look. I--heard some stuff." "Oh?" I said. I cocked an eyebrow. "You know." "Depends on the stuff." Yeah, I know, but I liked seeing him squirm a bit. Mr. Lopez was the first to yell from the sidelines. The first to curse out the refs. The type of dad that got way too aggressive with the coach when his kid wasn't in the game. He performed masculinity--expertly, true, but it was still a performance. Whereas a man like Mr. Meydrich, for example, didn't need to prove anything--he simply WAS a man. Or how my dad made every other man look like a child-- No. Bad idea to think about my own dad. Mr. Lopez was not happy that he had to spell it out. I saw his bald head flush pink. "You know what I'm talking about." "I swear, Mr. Lopez, I do not." "Fuck." He glared at me. "You. You're--you've fucked half the team, haven't you?" Only half? I was almost disappointed I wasn't getting the credit I deserved in the rumor mill. Still, I nodded. "And--" Now he swallowed. "I heard you're doing stuff with their--um." "Dads?" Mr. Lopez nodded, and I simply grinned in answer. I closed my car door and leaned against it instead, adjusting to look at him directly. I also reached up my shirt to rub at my chest, just to let him take in my abs, and I was not disappointed to see his eyes dart down. "Well. Look." He wet his lips, leaning in. "Have you--have you fucked Vinny?" I blinked. This had taken a turn I didn't expect. I stared at him, taking in his now-sweating head and the way his big body almost trembled. Slowly I answered. "No. I haven't fucked your boy." Another dart of the eyes. He leaned in, very close now. "Will you?" "Is that a request?" He licked his lips again. "Yes. Will you? Please?" Again I raised my eyebrow. "You want me to fuck your son?" Mr. Lopez nodded. Jeez, the man was shaking. He kept darting around to look behind him, to look back at the school; I did not know a dude that jacked could move so fast. "Look," he said, his voice almost breaking; he coughed, and lowered it purposefully. "I know what's going on. I heard about what you did with the Brodys. TO the Brodys. And I--I want in on it. I want you to turn him gay. Because I--I want to fuck Vinny." Fascinating. What kind of man hears about this shit--dads and sons coerced into incestuous sex--and wants IN on it? What kind of man hears about me raping a father and spitroasting his son and thinks, Gee, I want to do that, too? Well, more men than I would have guessed. I smirked at Mr. Lopez. "Well," I said, "I certainly can. I can make your son beg for dick if I wanted to. Beg for YOUR dick, even." He visibly shuddered at that. I reached forward, grabbing the front of his shirt to pull him close. "Hey, Field--" "But," I said, "it will cost you." "I'll give you five thousand dollars." I considered. "That's a start. But you know I fuck their dads, too." Mr. Lopez pulled back. "No. I don't go in for that gay shit." I'll never understand the idea that bottoming is somehow gayer than what I do. Mr. Lopez thought he could ask me to help him fuck his son and still be straight. I actually laughed in his face. I would really, really enjoy breaking this man. But--baby steps. Enjoy this. "Okay, Mr. Lopez. A blow job then. That first. And then you get me the cash." He was pissed. His left pec actually flexed under his tight shirt, as if he itched to punch me. But he must have really wanted a taste of that sweet, sweet incest. "Fine." "Now." "Now? Here? Jesus, kid, it's the school parking lot--" I looked around. I had parked a ways off, in the corner. It was after hours and most of the team was long gone. Only a handful of cars were left, far back, closer to the school. And besides, my car blocked the view. "Yes, now. Here." "I don't want to--" "Do you want me to do it, or not? Hell, I could talk to my dad about your proposition if I wanted to. But I'm fucking horny, and I need to shoot a load, so--your choice." Mr. Lopez halted. In his tiny brain I saw him consider. Saw him look at me again. Take in my body. "Vinny is waiting in the car." "He can wait five minutes," I said. "I suck you off, then you'll do it?" said Mr. Lopez. "You suck me off, then give me five thousand dollars," I said, "THEN I'll do it." "Deal." Just like that. Damn, these dads were so fucking easy. Half a minute of protest and suddenly he's crouching down in front of me, his mouth already open--and lips already wet. I was in practice shorts, so I simply lowered the front. I almost wished I hadn't showered, so there would have been more sweat and must, but Mr. Lopez was instantly rapturous either way. His sunglasses were back on, perhaps hoping to hide his face a bit, but I could see his eyes widen all the same. He leaned in. "Damn kid. You're big." "Big enough," I said. His mouth was upon me. Fuck, I love straight dads. Experience or no, there was no bullshit to their cocksucking. Mr. Lopez didn't lick me or sniff me, and he didn't kiss the head or only take in a bit at a time, either. He went for it, right away. In one move he pulled half of my shaft into his mouth, eagerly tasting me. I felt his tongue. It moved around me, feeling my shape and testing the new thing in his mouth. It did not take long, however, to see it happen. The change. The release that appeared on a man's face as he tasted my cock. Something in my skin, maybe. Or it was just the primal need buried under every man's brain. Whatever it was, it took over. The line in Mr. Lopez's brow disappeared. He let out a tiny, soft moan. And he took more of me. "Good," I said. "You want your son's ass?" "Oh god, yes." "Suck me till I cum." He did. Vigorously, and in a clearly inexperienced way, but he had drive. I realized I had a natural cocksucker on my hands. Lucky me. Again. Mr. Lopez was so focused on my cock he did not notice my hand reach into my pocket. He did not notice me turn on my phone, or see the camera light appear. I hit play as Mr. Lopez moved from a crouch to his knees. His hand gripped the base of my shaft as he assaulted the upper half. I heard him moan, felt him try to deepthroat me--and my phone caught it all. I felt myself getting close. "You like that dick, Mr. Lopez?" "Mmm!" "You gonna swallow my load?" He pulled off. "Yes, please!" Then he looked up. I watched his face fall half a second as he realized my phone was aimed at him. Then I shot, and my cum splattered on his face, and he melted again. "Oh, fuck, kid!" His eyes were furious, but his lips and mouth were desperate. He slurped at my cock, swallowing my next shot. I finished my nut, shuddering as he lapped me up. I turned off my phone, letting Mr. Lopez drop my descending cock, and watched as he used his fingers to wipe the rest of my messy orgasm from his cheek into his mouth. Then he glared at me. "A video, kid?" "Insurance," I said. "I'll delete it when our deal's over. After you get me the five thousand, and I've fucked your son." He grimaced, hating himself. Hating me. But he nodded. "Okay. Okay, fine. Just make sure you do it." He stood up, turning to go, and I couldn't resist. I smacked his ass. "Don't worry, Mr. Lopez," I said. "Your son's ass is as good as yours." I had an idea or two stewing as I drove home. Plans were all over the place, frankly. I was both busy--and, sadly, not very busy. I checked my phone. Shockingly, not a single text. I turned my attention back to the road, feeling that stupid pang of loneliness from before. Which I knew made no sense. I had my seed churning in Mr. Lopez's stomach, and still, I felt fucking... off. That's the sad truth, I guess. Though I had ACCESS to my team's dads, they weren't captured by me anymore. Conquered. Mr. Grayson, Cole, Johnson, Lee, Thompson, Etter, Vreeland, Ishida, Frank Hunter, Mr. Dell, the Brodys... I did not hear from them unless I initiated something. Unless I tried to push into their strange incestuous circle. But that's what I had wanted, right? To manage my time better? To stop getting hounded by texts and pleas for more? Next to their own sons, I was an afterthought. Their firsts, yes. A guy they owed a lot to. But I was second. Even to Brad's dad, Mr. Vane. I drove past the station, and remembered the previous week. When I first fucked him, I had used the threat that I was always better, that Brad would always be second to me, in order to make Brad fuck his dad. I had decided to test that theory, showing up to the news station to pay Mr. Vane a visit. Flashing my guest pass, I strode past security. Found his dressing room. I love a man in a suit--and it turned out, Mr. Vane wore sock garters, which I insisted he keep on as he sat on the makeup counter. He lifted his legs right there, and I watched in the mirror as my cock pushed in. "How's that, Mr. Vane?" I said. "Mmm. Fuck. Good." He moaned, like the teen girls he used to plug. I watched his boyish face redden. "Give my son some competition." Competition. I couldn't help it. Was it my ego? "Tell me, Daddy," I said, "who's better?" He didn't need to say. The alarm on his face--the realization that he was not, anymore, addicted to me, but to his own son. That Brad had won, after all. Mr. Vane tried to set his face. He moaned again. "Oooh, you're both so good." But I knew it was bullshit. Fuck it. I fucked Mr. Vane so hard--so aggressively, and so unkindly--that I even cracked the mirror behind him. I left Mr. Vane dazed and dripping, fucked so good he almost missed his cue, and flubbed his lines as he tried to argue about the NBA draft. My phone trilled, and I blinked out of the memory. A text, after all. I glanced down. It was from Dad. `Hey, kiddo, when you getting home?' Dad. Instantly I was hard again, and soft all at once. Of course he would text, right when I was feeling lonely. Of course. I made a split-second decision, and turned my car around. "Mmm," said Mr. Meydrich. He looked up at me from between my legs. I lay on his bed, a place that had become very familiar, lately. "Tastes different. Someone else's spit on here?" I chuckled. "Yeah. Mr. Lopez." "Hot guy," said Mr. Meydrich, approving. Then he lowered again, letting his lips run back down my shaft. "Mmm. He doesn't taste bad. Two flavors of men in one." Mr. Meydrich was the only dad, so far, I hadn't set upon his son. I had Kay working on Jim, sure. From what I heard, it was going well--Jim had taken to gay sex well enough, and Kay reported Jim was getting "almost as good as my dad" at fucking him. But I was hesitant to push that forward right away. Look, I liked Mr. Meydrich. I liked that he didn't treat me like pure meat, as even the best of my dads tended to do. I liked that he didn't assume I was always there for sex (even though I was). I liked that he welcomed me in, offered me a beer, asked me about my day. I liked that he was casual about it. Like Dan, when he wasn't giving me shifty looks or acting jealous. Mr. Meydrich was mine. I watched him suck my dick so greedily I had to grin--and he blushed back at me. With a pop, he rose up from my cock. "You're being sweet today, son," he said. "Nah," I said. "I just love the way my daddy sucks me." "Always, son." I was reluctant to pull the cord. Set him up with his son. Because as much as I knew Mr. Meydrich would try, I had the suspicion he was--well, sort of a romantic. Mr. Meydrich loved his son--his real son--too much. He would be lost to me as soon as Jim's cock entered him. "Hey, daddy," I said, "why don't you come up here?" Mr. Meydrich did, cheerfully. He climbed onto me, and his familiar hole expanded as he lowered himself onto my dick. I couldn't help it. I kissed him. "See?" said Mr. Meydrich. "Sweet." "Shut up," I chuckled. "I will if you fuck me." I did. While my dad texted again, Mr. Meydrich was giving me my second--then third--orgasm of the day. While I ignored my old man, I did something I'd never done before, and lowered my mouth over Mr. Meydrich's tiny dick. "Oh, my son!" But I wasn't. He came as I blew him, and I drank, and we lived our fantasy. But it wasn't real. I was a hot guy, and I knew I wasn't a bad lay. But I would never compare to a man's own son. Okay, so I've been gloomy. But as I drove home, invigorated by the sex Mr. Meydrich had just given me--and still tasting his cum in my mouth--I resolved to pull myself out of it. Pointless. Stupid to care, not when I was this close to fucking my way through the fathers of my entire team. "John!" I instantly knew something was up. Mom greeted me at the door, with a line between her eyebrows. Behind her, Dad hovered in the front room. "Hey, kiddo," he said. I froze. Instantly, a million questions ran through my mind. Had I fucked up? Had one of my dads told? Been arrested? Did they know what I had done to Mr. Grayson, or Mr. Lee, or just now, or what Mr. Lopez had asked me to do? "What's up?" "Maybe sit down. You aren't in trouble, we just--" said Mom. "We just need to tell you something," said Dad. So I sat. And I stared at them. And I marvelled at how uncomfortable each of them looked. So, this was it. I was going to be arrested. Maybe Dad would have to put me in handcuffs. I would only get sent to juvie, but goodbye to my future... "We're getting a divorce." Not what I had expected. Mom looked pained, Dad looked weary. How fucked-up is it, that even now, I noticed how handsome he was. Even with weariness and a resigned pained wrinkling his eyes, the man was a study in beauty. "Oh," I said. What commenced were the usual, vague speeches that accompany such an announcement. No, this has nothing to do with you, No, this isn't your fault, We want you to know we love you very much, Please don't think this changes that... "What happens now?" I said. My parents glanced at each other. Dad winced--something I hated to see his perfect face do. "Well, this is fairly amicable," said Mom. "We aren't going to court or anything. And we've agreed--if you agree--that, um--" "Mom is moving. To stay with her sister," said Dad. "And be closer to her job. And since my work is here..." "You'll stay here, too," said Mom. "We don't want to interrupt school." Dad shot me a shy grin, and I felt myself blush. Fuck. Still, I felt something--what was it? Hope? Whatever it was, my stomach eased. "Okay," I said. "Thanks for that." "We still care about each other, too," said Mom. "We'll co-parent as well as we can. We just, well..." "Can't be married anymore," said Dad. I nodded. It did not occur to me to ask why. But, hell, parents divorce all the time. And maybe I should have seen this coming. They were distant. I think they fucked, still, but it's not like Mom was around as much as Dad, anyway. But as I trudged up to my room, I felt something fall away. A sort of unconscious barrier. Mom had been, if not the biggest reason, at least ONE reason not to fuck my father to the brink of sanity. Without her around anymore, with Dad deprived of sex with his wife and giving off more and more... well, DADness, more and more of his intense musk, his sexiness, his... his... Would I be able to resist? Best not think about it. Best to, instead, check my phone. See that Mr. Lopez had successfully sent my app the $5000. Feel relieved that my parents weren't attached to my account, that I could avoid questions about it. A mean smirk hit me as I considered Mr. Lopez. How well he had taken to cock. And how, now, he couldn't really enforce our deal. I texted Vinny.