Date: Fri, 14 May 2021 15:24:11 -0500 From: David Ashley Subject: Conquering My Friends' Dads Chapter 9 Welcome back, pervs! Thanks for waiting. I hope this little chapter will be a worthy follow-up to poker night. 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. Daddy number ten this time! Chapter 9 Poker night had knocked a lot of men off my personal list. But I wanted to be organized. As my dad carried on downstairs, getting drunker as he played with his friends--friends whose asses were literally dripping with my cum--I returned to my room. Our coach had sent out an email with a spreadsheet of every member of our soccer team--with their parents' information and contact info tacked on. I sat at my computer, finding this email, and opened a new word document. One by one, I transferred the names of my teammates into the document, arranging them carefully into two lists. Then I deleted all first names--in case my parents saw the list, I didn't want them to think I was actually listing these kids' fathers. The first list was, in order, my conquests thus far. I made mental notes as I arranged them. 1. Grayson. The big-shot lawyer I had to rape. Check. 2. Cole. The hairy, incestuous daddy bear. Double check. 3. Johnson. The muscle slut. Check. 4. Vane. TV guy. Boy, that man was broken. Poor Brad. Check. 5. Thompson. Taylor and Tyler weren't speaking to me, so I think they had gathered that I had fucked their dad--and had, a couple times more by now, after practice in the bathroom. Hey, was it my fault their dad was an old football slut? Check. 6. Lee. Poor guy probably didn't even remember, I should give him a refresher. But I heard Dan had given Kay a few more rides on his dick. Check. I added the last three names, checking them off with a sick pleasure as I could still hear their voices issuing from downstairs. 7. Etter. The guy who had heard of me, and wanted some. Check. 8. Vreeland. The blond, innocent closet case. Check. 9. Ishida. So small. So tight. I doubted his asshole would ever be the same. Check. This left me with list number two; I made a new page. This one I realized could end up in any order, so I left boxes beside their names instead of numbers. I could record the order as I went. -- Brody. A beautiful redhead. I made a mental note that Nalan, the son, was really, really handsome too. Thickly built, ginger, himbo type. I would enjoy tapping the asses of both father and son. -- Jones. Black, burly. His son was an asshole who hung out with Brad, but his dad had a beautiful pair of lips. -- Lopez. Mexican. Lots of muscle--and, the way he talked to the guys at practice, he liked to think he was an alpha. I would enjoy breaking his machismo. -- Dell. I hadn't met him, but I heard Melvin Dell's mother was rich, and had roped herself a younger stud. Interesting. -- Meydrich. Poor, chubby, shy Jim Meydrich. But man, his dad was such a bro. Present at every game, chill with all the guys. I wondered how easy it would be to break Mr. Meydrich, who was clearly completely straight. -- Dorian. -- Call. Here I hesitated. Actually, Robby Dorian didn't have a dad. But there was Robby's older brother... I decided to keep that name on the list, just in case. And then there was little Vinnie Call. Honestly, he was more a mascot than an actual player. The kid was a tiny little asthmatic, but everyone knew why he was on the team. Vinnie's dad was our coach. I hit print. Then, grabbing two push-pins, I posted both lists on my corkboard. This done, I realized just how tired I was. Having sex three times, with three consecutive men, will exhaust a guy. I crawled into bed, trying not to think about my father's drunk, deep voice still echoing up the stairs. The opportunity to check off number 10 presented itself one week later. It was a riskier conquest, but I was desperate again. "John?" Jim sounded groggy and surprised. Made sense, for a Saturday morning. "Hey, Jim," I said. "How's it going?" "Alright," he said. "Did you hear I won't be at practice today? I've got work." Oh, I had heard. Unfortunately for Jim--or, I should say, unfortunately for Jim's dad--I had just passed my father coming out of the bathroom. MY bathroom. My dad had flashed a grin at me, giving the excuse that Mom was taking a long bath in their own bathroom, and he had wanted to get a quick shower in before work. Sorry he had to work and couldn't join me at practice today, yadda yadda. So he had used MY shower. And walked out wearing only a towel. Fucking slut. "Yeah, I heard," I said now. I was in my bathroom; I had immediately drawn my phone after shutting the door. My erection at my dad's semi-naked form was painful. "And that's fine, I'm not going today either. Just wanted to check with you. Your dad's home, right? He doesn't have work today?" "Yeah," sighed Jim. "Lucky. I have a shift in an hour but he's off on Saturdays. Why?" I felt a flare of triumph. "No reason. Thanks." I hung up before he could ask any other questions. Jim was a nice enough kid. Floated at the edge of my circle on the team. Friendly with Julian and helped Dan with his homework now and then. He was a bit chubby, so he was shy about that, and preferred to follow more outgoing types like myself. Far more interesting, though, was Mr. Meydrich. I picked Jim because he didn't have any siblings--and his dad was single. I picked him because his dad would be home alone. I picked him because his dad was a bro who had eyed me up during practices. I picked him because his father would be an easy target--even if I had to resort to force. And the way my cock was pulsing right now? I was more than willing to go there. Poker night was almost a week ago. Masturbation only frustrated me. I parked across the street, watching Jim drive away. Then I got out, strode across, and knocked on the door. God bless Mr. Meydrich. What a treasure this man was. His face lit up when he saw me, and he let me in right away. "Sure, sure," said Mr. Meydrich, stepping back to hold the door. "Come on in. Everything okay, John?" I stepped in. Mr. Meydrich and his son lived simply--their house was almost a trailer, it was so small. A simple, 70s-era front room, with a tiny television and faded brown couch; a small kitchenette, and two doors opposite each other--one to Jim's room, the other to his dad's. It reminded me of when I fucked Mr. Lee, and in fact the Lees' trailer park was not far. There was something about the men on this side of the track. Our school was in a clash of districts, with houses like the Graysons and the Vanes only a few miles from houses like this. But where Mr. Grayson and Mr. Vane had to be broken--mentally and emotionally--in order to take my cock, Mr. Lee had woken up and squealed for it. Maybe it was all the pride that came with money. I HOPED Mr. Meydrich would be the same. But I reflected it was good that it wasn't a condo or apartment, in case he was a screamer. "I'm okay," I said. "Thanks." Mr. Meydrich was a cool guy. Brusque but good-natured, he was the type to shake hands and ask about college plans when you stopped by to pick up his son. He offered rides, when he could, to the other guys on the team, he was there at every game, and chatted easily with the other dads. But he wasn't handsome--not conventionally so, at least not in his face. He had a bald spot in his short, dark hair, and plain features. I had heard he was once into boxing, back in the day, which might explain the flat nose. I liked his body; not as tall as me, but he had a good frame. Really nice chest and arms. A bit burlier, but not as much as Mr. Etter, or his son. Mr. Meydrich wore a lot of polos, giving a real dad vibe, but it worked for him. A Ron Swanson of a dude. That's what was so handsome about him, if it made any sense. The fact that he was so NOT handsome. That he was just a dude. Something incredibly manly about a person who didn't worry about his appearance. No pretty features, no pretense about looks; just a man. "You're not at practice," he said. "Something happen? Do you need anything?" "I do," I said, removing my shirt. "I'm really horny. I need a fuck." I looked at him, frozen in the act of closing the door. I stood there in just my soccer shorts and boots, letting him take in my body. It was a shock tactic. I wanted to see if it would work--but also, I was tenting, and Mr. Meydrich smelled really, really good. Can't get too fancy with coercion when you need to get off. It worked--the shock part, anyway. Mr. Meydrich gaped. At me, at my torso. At what I had said. I watched it process in his head, his brain clicking under that bald spot. "What--" "Listen. I'm horny, Mr. Meydrich," I repeated. "I came over to fuck you." With a slow click, the door closed. Mr. Meydrich's frown deepened. "This is inappropriate." "Look," I said, adjusting my painful erection, "I don't have a lot of time to do this in a cute way. I don't have time to seduce you or toy with your sexuality or whatever. I know you're straight. But I've thought you were sexy for years, and I need to fuck someone right now, so I'm going to fuck you. Whether you like it or not." Mr. Meydrich stared at me, his jaw falling open comically. He blinked. "You want to fuck me?" "I'm GOING to fuck you." I stepped closer, my hand touching his big chest. "Sorry, but I need this. I'd rather not force you, but I will if needed. If it makes you feel any better, you'll like it. Eventually." I inhaled him again. He had such a great odor. Shitty body wash like Old Spice, mixed in with heavy sweat from the night. He was wearing a robe, with a stained tank top and boxers underneath. Such a man. Such a dad. I couldn't wait to fuck him. I moved in. He didn't pull away. Shock was still working on him, leaving him frozen in place. I held his shoulders, leaning in to gently kiss his neck. He shuddered. I paused, my cock throbbing as he simply breathed, pinned against the door. He swallowed. "Look. John. I have no problem with gay kids or anything." He was whispering, barely breathing. "And I'm flattered. But first of all, I'm straight, and even if I were interested--" His voice barely reached me, his breath tripping in his chest. "You're too young." "You don't get it," I said, kissing his Adam's apple. He shuddered again. "Mr. Meydrich, you don't have a choice here." "You--you're going to--" He swallowed again. "You want to--" "I'm going to force you." "You can't--" "On your knees, Mr. Meydrich." He wasn't any good at sucking dick, as it turned out. His jaw shook, and he flinched every time I gave him an order. Where one second there had been a brusque, masculine, Ron Swanson of a man, now there was only a retching, timid thing between my legs. I gripped his thin hair, directing his movements, and he shuddered again. I gotta say, I get off on this shit. Turning men--straight men--into cock whores. Mr. Meydrich was terrible at this, but he was getting really, really into it. I pulled him off. He gagged, retching. "I didn't even use your throat," I said. Gasping for breath, tears blossoming, Mr. Meydrich sniffed as he looked up at me. "Please stop. Don't make me." "You're hard, Mr. Meydrich." It was true--his boxers were open. Interesting; Mr. Meydrich had the tiniest dick I'd ever seen. It was barely two inches, but still unmistakably erect, leaking a trail of precum onto the floor. Almost a little clit. Fucking hot. I decided to toy with him. "Okay," I said. I stepped back. "Fine. I'll give you a choice. No lies, I promise." This, of course, WAS a lie. No matter his answer, I would fuck him, even if it meant forcing him down. Tying him up. Shoving my cock in his hole as he screamed. But I think I knew what he would say--and it would be easier for both of us if he admitted it to himself. "I can stop," I said. "I can put my dick away. Leave your house. Get in my car and go." Something fell on his face as he realized what I was doing. "Or?" "Or," I said, "I can stay." His eyes were all over me--my cock, my torso, my chest. I flexed a little, touching myself.. "I can fuck you silly like the little bitch you are. What will it be?" "I--" "Mr. Meydrich," I said, "what do you WANT?" Miserably, with a falling of new tears, I watched as the man crumpled. He shifted forward, reaching for my cock. I held him back. "Nope. You have to say it." "Don't make me--" "Admit it to yourself, Mr. Meydrich. You want to have gay sex right now. You want me, your son's friend, a fifteen-year-old kid, to fuck you. Say it." "I--" Poor Mr. Meydrich. Even trembling and broken, he was hot as hell. "I want it," he said. I pushed him back down on me. His tears returned, as did another retch. But things shifted. That's the thing--gay sex, even for a dude who thinks he's straight, is addicting. In moments his skill started to improve. I felt him utter a moan as he tasted my cock, felt what it was like--experienced the weight and flavor of a penis in his mouth. He liked it. He gasped for a moment, looking up at me. The image of a straight man, with my cock resting against his face. It's nice. "You like my cock?" I said. "Fuck, John." Mr. Meydrich, the bro, was returning. He sniffed, wiping his face. He was no longer crying. He actually smirked as he licked my balls. "John boy. I do. I like your dick." "I know you do, Mr. Meydrich." I had fulfilled his need--a need I planted, a need I gave him. But now, looking down, I had my own need. "Call me `son,'" I commanded. "Yes, son," said Mr. Meydrich automatically. It made my cock twitch. "You want your son to fuck you." "I do." "But better me, right?" I said. "Better me than Jim." "Better you," he agreed. "I want you to fuck me, son." I skipped practice, but it was worth it. I spent the entire morning, and into the afternoon, fucking Mr. Meydrich. When I had finally blown my load into his mouth, and he had a chance to taste his new son's cum, I sat against the back of his faded couch to catch my breath. I let him explore my body. I let this man--this sexy, fatherly, bro of a man--feel the ridges of my muscles. Touch my skin. Taste my armpit. It did not take long before I was hard again, and I took his hand, commanding him to lead me to his room. There I told him to undress the rest of the way--he did so, still with that absurd and reverent respect and fear plastered across his face--then I told him to lie down on his back. I instructed him to raise his legs. His old mattress creaked. What a sight. What a daddy. He was hairy in patches and pale everywhere else. His body was on display. His tiny dick. He couldn't take his pleading eyes off me as I tapped my cock on his asshole. "Please--I don't think I can--" "Don't talk," I said. "You don't need to. Just enjoy it." Not for the first time, I thought: Who needed my dad? I could be satisfied with men like Mr. Meydrich. I could take what I wanted from any of my friends' dads. This was enough. This hole, right here, this warmth as I pushed into Mr. Meydrich's ass--this was plenty. Fuck it, I knew I was trying to convince myself. But I can't help it. Mr. Meydrich was gasping "Oh! Oh son!" and I couldn't help comparing him to the man that had made me, and god I loved being called "Son." And I was right. Mr. Meydrich really was a screamer. It was a good thing this wasn't a condo after all. But fuck me, I loved making him scream. Hearing those yells change from cries of pain into moans of pleasure. I felt him melt under me, felt him grip my big shoulders as he shouted, "Harder! Fuck me, son! Fuck me harder!" I am, after all, an obedient son. I gave him what he wanted. "HOLY FUCK! SON!" I lifted his legs, positioning his ankles on my shoulders. Then I grabbed his wrists. I pulled back, exiting his body. I left the tip of my cock tickling his entrance. "DO IT!" he shouted. "IMPALE ME!" I pulled his arms forward as I sent my dick in, all the way. A great clap as my hips struck, nearly competing with his shout of joy. "YES! YES! MY BOY! MY SON! FUCK ME!" I kept that position for a bit, clapping against his ass until the underside of his thighs were red. Then I moved to shift him, rolling his leg over, pushing the big man onto his side-- "Oh my god I'm coming!" Mr. Meydrich shot his wad. I hadn't been expecting it--that little clit? That little turtle, actually shooting cum? But there he was, spilling his daddy seed onto his sheets. I guess his stamina was bound to run out eventually. "All that," I said, "just from getting fucked. Getting raped. By your son." He whimpered in answer. "Don't worry, you sexy fucking whore," I said. "I'm almost done with your ass." In answer, Mr. Meydrich only moaned. I fucked, my hips slapping against his enormous ass. More cum leaked out of him. It seemed to never end--he was just coming, sending waves of white jism onto his bedspread, his legs seizing and shuddering as I pounded into him. I figured I should cut the man a break. I should slow down. I did not. Truly his was the orgasm that would not end. A full minute later, as I approached my own climax, his tiny cock was still red and swollen, still jerking. Now and then a new sputter of semen spilled out. It was clear now, freshly made by his balls, but still he came. As for his mind? Shit, I didn't know. His face was vacant. I wondered if a minutes-long orgasm could cause brain damage. So I sped up, racing, ruining the man further until at last I shot my own load--deep inside. At last, I could stop. I felt my cock soften inside him. I removed it, falling onto the bed beside him. It took another minute, but slowly I watched as Mr. Meydrich's clarity returned. His little dick stopped twitching at last. It began to deflate. He rolled over to look at me. "Did you--?" He swallowed. "Did you cum?" "Yup." "In--inside me--?" I laughed. "Yep. You just got bred. That's how sexy you are, Mr. Meydrich." Jeez. I had thought the waterworks were over. Several renewed tears pushed out of his eyes, but at least he wasn't sobbing anymore. I almost felt bad. "Damn," I said. "Sorry. But I needed that." "Sorry?" Mr. Meydrich laughed. "Why are you sorry?" Now I was confused. I propped myself up, blinking down at the man. "You're crying." Mr. Meydrich barked out a laugh. "John. SON--that's what you want me to call you. My boy. That was the best sex of my life." "You're getting emotional." He chuckled again, clapping my chest, his eyes still shining. "Because it was great. Because you came inside me." I smirked, but stared at him. He propped himself up on his creaky old bed to stare back at me. The man was practically glowing. "You really did like it," I said. He kissed me. "You put your seed in me. I dunno--I just really, really like knowing that." I laughed. "You want to know what's better?" "What?" I patted his belly. "You drank my cum, too. My protein. You'll shit out what's in your ass, but that cum you ate is gonna stay with you. Get absorbed. Become part of your body." "Hollly fuuuck." A satisfied, stupid, vacant smile. Incredible. He was the bro again. The nice dad who got along with the whole team. Friendly. Chill. "How--" he licked his lips. "How did you know I would?" "What? That you'd like it?" "Yeah. I mean. I didn't even know." He frowned. "I didn't think I was gay." Weird. I had never had this conversation with any of my dads so far. Most had already wanted cock at some point, or had already experimented with men. They had been, more or less, easy to convince. I was hot, and confident, and most men in their forties were starved for sex. The only truly straight guy had been Mr. Vane, and he had ended up a snivelling mess. Barely coherent, he had not had a chance to question it. But like any empty-headed bro, Mr. Meydrich was settling into his new role with fervor--and getting comfortable. He reminded me of Andrew: just a man happy to please. He kissed my chest, touched my body. I had opened his eyes to gay sex, but he GOT it--and was shockingly cool with it. I smiled. I couldn't help it--he was too cute. I grabbed his plain, masculine face, and kissed him. "Wanna know the secret?" I said, brushing his thin hair. "Yes, please!" I had not thought about it before, but the answer came right away. "It's because you're a dad." Mr. Vane's pride in his son. Mr. Meydrich's affection for his son, and for the friends who were nice to his boy. I leaned in, sniffed his hairy chest, ran my hands over his body. Straightening back up, I tweaked his nipple. "Because I'm a dad," he said. "All it takes is a hint of curiosity," I said. "Affection. And every dad, at some point, thinks of his son. Innocent, parental thoughts. You wonder about his body. About how he's developing. You care about him." Mr. Meydrich moaned again now, reacting as I twisted his nipple. "That's all it takes," I said. "Your innocent, fatherly thoughts. Some are more perverted already than others, but hell. Any of them can work. I use them. I'm a safe experiment--a stand-in. I'm NOT their son." I smirked down at him. "And, hell. What do you think? It helps that I look pretty good, right?" "God, John. You're perfect." He touched me, his big, hairy hands moving to cup my chest. I grinned down at the man. "You're sexy, Mr. Meydrich." The way he smiled, his eyes crinkled--just like Dad's. It made my cock stir again. "How about another round?" "Oh yes. Please. Yes."