Date: Sat, 17 Oct 2009 12:54:39 +0000 From: Bill Drake Subject: Horny Dad Tales #8 Horny Dad Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com) The usual disclaimers apply: for adult readers only. Contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between men, some of whom are related. This series is not one story but a collection of tales involving, you got it, horny dads. Back in the listserv days there was a great series called Horny Guy Tails. They were the inspiration for my White Collar Tales, and I thought it would be fun to have a series of father-son stories: some shorter, some more developed. A forum for the usual Bill Drake plots and themes, and for developing ideas I don't normally do. The series has gotten a lot of great feedback, so thanks to those readers out there who've taken a moment to write. Send those comments and story suggestions along: billdrake@hotmail.com. For more of my stories, check out the Authors page at Nifty, or join my Yahoo group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/drakestories/ Horny Dad Tales # 8 Felch Fest Induction Dressed and pressed in their Sunday best, eight of the town's most prosperous and respected businessmen sat somewhat awkwardly in the foldout chairs that had been placed in front of the room. "What do you think's taking them so long?" Arthur Johnson asked. Jim Reynolds turned to the bespectacled man beside him. Something about the guy had always annoyed the successful real estate developer. But he took a deep breath and answered, "Hold your horses, Art. The longer it takes the better it'll be for us." Behind them were the spectators. Several rows of chairs filled the small room to capacity. Lawyers, doctors, businessmen, judges, cops... all of the town's most respectable male citizens were there. All members of the Order. Some had gone through the induction before, had been up on stage where the eight men anxiously sat. Others watched in anticipation, hoping for the day it might be their turn. Some, of course, would have to resign themselves to the once-a-year role as spectator. Joseph O'Connell owned a franchise of car dealerships. A bruiser of a gruff Irishman, his dark hair and green eyes and cheeky smile were still disarming. He and Jim had been co-captains of the local high school football team back in the day, and the two understood each other like brothers. Where the other Order members saw a brash, often uncouth guy, flush with new money, Jim saw an honest, heart-on-his-sleeve kinda guy. All of a sudden, O'Connell reached down and squeezed Jim's large erection. "Jimmy boy, you big perv!" Jim laughed. "Yeah, like you're not feeling the same way." Smoothly, he glided his right hand up and down the hard lump in Joseph's crotch. "Guess so. You're lucky, man. You get to watch more inductions before Dave comes out." Jim shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, but you get to go first." Joseph smiled and licked his lips. Jim wondered what his friend could do with that big tongue of his. Leaning back his oversized body in the small chair, he placed his big mitts on his thighs and spread his heavy legs til they pushed against his neighbors'. "Maybe you're right, Jimmy boy. Maybe you're right." When Jim turned back he noticed Paul Harrison was sitting beside him now. He smiled in surprise. "Hey buddy! How'd ya..." The hunky blond forty-two-year old leaned in to whisper. "Convinced old Art to trade seats. Told him he'd enjoy it more if got to see all of us have a go first." Jim chuckled quietly and gently slapped right in between Paul's shoulder blades. He started to say something in response, but was interrupted by the test of a microphone. Mayor George McKinney spoke up, "Let's get started gentlemen. I know you've been waiting patiently, but we have more inductees than ever in the Order's history. Eight fine, young strapping men." Loud claps and whoops went up from the crowd. The mayor smiled and put up his hands to quiet the randy men down. "Yeah, yeah, I'm looking forward to this too. I need to thank a few folks first... first the First Presbyterian Church for the use of the meeting hall here.... and I'd like to thank for their - ahem -- volunteer services..." The men laughed. The mayor looked up from the list he was about to read. "It's a long list fellas. The San Juacinto P.D., and Fire Department" Big applause. "Carson County Emergency Response. The mall construction crew. Carson County Community College football and baseball teams -- players and coaching staff." Cat calls. "State U's football, baseball, basketball, and swim teams -- players and coaching staff." Loud rumble. "Coaches Wasniski and Penner and a few teachers from our high school. The Chambers of Commerce from Polk, Washington, Mercer, and Brigham counties. The Mayor's office and city council." Laughs. "The fine men from United Parcel Service and Federal Express... now," he took in an exaggerated breath. "Did I forget anyone?" The audience laughed and cheered. One man cried out, "bring 'em out!" "OK, OK! Without further ado, let the induction begin. You know the rules: no hand-genital contact, no fucking during the first round." The first inductee was Rod Jeffers, a tall, almost lanky but dashingly attractive young man. Only two of the eight were not jocks at the local high school, and Rod was one of them. He lacked the beefed up and weight-conditioned build of his athletic peers, but he sported something they did not: an insanely long prick that stood up tall as he walked out in the front of the room. Joe O'Connell turned to Jim and Paul and said, "Didn't know old Tom Jeffers was hung like that." "You seen him?" "No, but he must be with a kid like that." The mayor rested his arm on Rod's bare shoulder. "OK, Rod, before we begin, tell these men how many you took." "23," Rod said proudly, eliciting a round of horny applause from the townsmen. He then got in place, standing in front of the seated Tom Jeffers, facing the front of the room. Slowly, he backed up, right into his father's outstretched hands. Then his fathers face. Which began nuzzling in, licking. The anticipation in the room was high. A year had been a long time. "How is it, Jeffers?" A voice called out. Tom leaned his head back, never taking his eyes of the spermy target fluttering in front of him. "Goddamn wet!" He dove back and began rimming his son, entering a trance. Rod groaned and tossed his head back. He thought he'd feel self-conscious for an act like this, in front of all these peering eyes. But after the last two hours, his asshole craved the soothing laps his father was administering. The crowd was horny and impatient. The second inductee was brought out before the Jeffers were finished. Brad Gehlen lettered each year in baseball... he didn't have the perfect trim body of some of the other young men tonight, but he was strong, talented, and affable. He felt a little uneasy walking out there to the front of the room, his jock paunch bared for all to see. He'd insisted on wearing a jockstrap to hide his genitals. He might not have carried a Jeffers-sized prick, but with an asset like his meaty ass, Brad had no reason to feel second-rate. The men clapped and whistled to urge him on. None beamed more in admiration than his father. Will Gehlen, accountant and treasurer for the Order. He'd long succumbed to his desires and worship of his son's plump buttcheeks and the succulent treasure they hid. This induction, of course, was something new. Now, his friends and acquaintances would be watching. "All right, Brad," the mayor asked, holding the young man by the wrist. He sensed the kid was too nervous for more body contact. "How many?" The boy blushed and leaned in to whisper in the mayor's ear. "Eighteen, gentlemen!" To urge him on, Will clapped his hands on his lap. "Come on, son." His erection was nearly boring a hole right in the crotch of his trousers, and it took the perverted father all his strength not to rush up and tackle his flesh and blood to the ground. "The boy doesn't want to go," Jim whispered in concern to Paul. Paul looked on anxiously. "What do you think is gonna happen with the next pair?" Rick and his son had not so much as touched each other before. At last, Brad took a deep breath and turned around. The room was silent as he leaned over so that his arms propped themselves up on his thighs. That meaty rump shifted and parted just enough to let the fine dusting of downy hairs show deep in his crack. The eager father appreciatively ran his hands up and down the boy's rippled hamstrings as he leaned in toward his son's most intimate and private spot. Brad gasped. He felt nervous and ashamed, but damned if his father's tongue wasn't driving him crazy. His sphincter relaxed and was rewarded with the inward thrusts of Will's tongue. Brad clenched his fists and tried to hold it all in, but his dad ground his face into his now slick crack with a ferocity of a wolf attacking its prey. Very soon, Brad's insides unseized and steadily fed the warm loads of eighteen men to his father's waiting mouth. The others looked on in admiration and high-pitch sexual heat. They could hear Will Gehlen's grunts of surprise and excitement and see the peristalsis in his throat muscles as he gulped down load after load of anonymous seed. Adam's apple bobbing, neck twitching. "Looks like Gehlen's getting one hell of a protein shake," Paul groaned, unable to keep his eyes off the horny sight. Having taken the first flood of deposited sperm, the man pulled up for air and slapped his boy's meaty cheeks approvingly. "Oh son," Will cried as he held Brad's butt muscle in his wide hands. He buried his face deep in his son's crevice once more, his tongue tip drilling into the kid's hole and slurping back the sperm. He rimmed that elastic hole, making his son whimper. The sight was unbelievable, two sets of fathers and sons, locked mouth to fuckhole. Two incestual rimmings marking the transition from boy to man. Finally, Will Gehlen could take no more. He unzipped and bared his angry erection. Breaking the rules. With a quick shove, he pulled his boy down into his suited lap. That father prick pierced his boy's now well-fucked hole and shot instantly. Yeah, it was against the rules, but no one stopped the two men, it happened so fast. "Oh son... my boy, my baby boy," he muttered, running his hands along Brad's clammy smooth skin. "He's not a baby anymore, Will," a man called out. "No, sir," said another. "Christ, came so frigging hard son... already. Daddy couldn't hold off." Will growled and felt his seed swimming in Brad's bowels, with the other remnant loads. The son's cock was erect from his own crotch, and he did his best to keep his hands off. With his father's prick massaging his inner gland, he wasn't sure he was gonna be able to hold off. Only then, his dad pushed him up off his lap, up off his sticky prick. "Get back up here," he ordered softly. The boy complied, bending over further this time. His lips latched right back on Brad's hairy spermy hole and immediately tasted his own jism. Briny, hot, and syrupy. He slurped and scarfed like a pig at trough. Time for the next inductee. "It's OK, Rick," Joe assured him. "It's just an induction. Besides you're gonna take to this like a duck to water." "Hope so," the father said nervously as Jr. walked out. The younger Allen stud was a carbon copy of his father -- dark hair, blue eyes, killer smile. The boy was not a football star, but gridiron had filled out his body quite nicely, Rick Sr. noted. He licked his lips and sat in nervous anticipation. "All right, Rick Jr, how many?" "25." The crowd erupted in cheer. "It was my first time. It felt so good, I kept asking for more," the kid admitted. That really drove the men wild, and the hollering was at a high pitch as the two Allens inched closer to one another for the first time. Rick Jr. shuddered as he felt the clean shaven face of his father brush against his cheeks. The father shook nervously, but couldn't help but run his hands up his boy's hairy thighs. His son had nice strong legs, a nice strong ass. The butt muscle gave way and parted gently. Then he was there, right there in his boy's hole. That gash opened up for his fluttering tongue. Rick Sr. pushed harder, and felt his boy give in. Yeah, he admitted, Hornog O'Connell was right. This perverted shit's pretty awesome. By now, the younger Jeffers, exhausted but still erect, was sitting in his dad's lap. He could feel Tom's hardon through his suitpants, and Tom could feel the fresh wetness of Rod's crack soak through his crotch. Inductee number 4 was coming out. Matt O'Connell was tall and big, a muscular wide-receiver with brawn from head to toe. Was gonna inherit his father's burliness one day, but for now, he was perfectly conditioned, tight pink nipples dotting two curved plates of pectoral muscle. Sweaty, hair matted, and fever-red, he clearly had just gotten majorly fucked and was still in a sex trance. Eyes focused far off like at every line of scrimmage. His medium-sized prick was bloated and nearly purple and dripping with clear juice. But the most obscene thing was his stomach. Normally a hard, flat surface, the belly protruded out in a great swell. "How many, Matt?" "42," he huffed. "Can I go ahead?" He didn't think he could hold in the loads a second longer. "Have at 'em, boy," the mayor encouraged and watched in rapt horniness as the young athlete hurriedly grabbed his dad's face. He shoved it into his crack just as his sphincter muscles relaxed. "Oh fuck!" father and son cried at the same time. Jim Reynolds had a close-up view and could not believe the nastiness. Cascades of white pearly cum washed down from the meeting place of father's mouth and son's crack, slopping in thick drips onto Joe's blue suit, tie and starched shirt. Reynolds rubbed the burly dad's leg next to him to encourage the heated felchfest and even his hand was feeling stray drops of jizz and spit. The elder O'Connell whimpered as he started munching butt and swallowing pulse after pulse of thick liquid from his son's receptacle anus. Jim watched in disbelief as Joe's crotch flexed untouched and the father's sperm soaked a huge wet spot in his suit trousers. The young wide receiver was huffing a litany of sex grunts, but all of a sudden he let out of deep piercing wail of pleasure. His father had started to drill his tongue into the athlete's tight chute. Joe's tongue was big and fat, thicker than some pricks, and sweat beaded on Matt's forehead as his slimy, abused hole felt stretched and conquered by his dad's mouth organ. Hands-free the kid's cock started dribbling molten white sperm, in tiny spurts, then a steady trickle, then the pissslit opened right up and a high long arc of juice jetted out. Reynolds was so caught up in watching his friend put his son through his induction that he almost didn't hear his own boy's name called. He looked up and saw Dave walk in front of him. He was proud and horny at the same time. His son was starting quarterback for the high school team. Had the talent and the genes and the determination to get that scholarship from State and undoubtedly was gonna go pro one day. Jim knew he shouldn't live out his dreams through his son, but honestly what father doesn't? "Man, Jim, you boy's hot," Paul muttered in his ear. "Yeah," he croaked. Dave was not shy about stepping right up to the suited and gladhandling mayor, who slipped his arm around the huffing athlete and sniffed the heat and sex sweat emanating off the perfect 6'4" teen. "How many, Dave?" Like his teammate, Dave, too was nearly hyperventilating as he strained to hold his insides steady. His belly swelled out even further than Matt's had, if possible, and his ball-throwing hands, cupped and messaged his bloated gut. "50," his teen baritone grunted. "Damn!" "Jesus!" "Hell!" exclaimed the men in the room. This was by far a record. "Lucky dog," Paul nudged his friend. The boy took deep breaths as he scooted up bowlegged in front of Jim's seat. His father's hands clapped on his rear's flesh, firm and hot. Jim leaned forth and licked. The boy's crack was clean, not a trace of sperm or lube. "Must have washed off," he mused as he backed away and looked at that wonderful cleft. Dave's pucker clenched and spasmed, taunting his father to lean in for another wet swipe. The hole was now soaked in the father's spit, the tight ring trembling. All the time Paul Harrison's face was right there looking on the scene, urging his buddy on. "Lick that hole man." As Dave cried Jim wickedly decided to tease his boy more. He gave yet another quick tickle of his tongue. That did it. Jim stared forward as Dave's butthole opened up and ejaculated a hot stream of cum right into his handsome face. A hot, slick blast of slime that blasted forth, stinging Jim's eyes a little and messing up his hair. Jim did his best to lock his mouth over the spurting ass-fountain. Then it really poured out, juicy ounce after ounce. Right into his father's mouth. It overflowed Jim's oral cavity and trickled down his chin, dribbled into his lap. And it kept coming. Christ, fifty loads, Jim thought as his body shook and as he tasted an unending parade of flavors... bitter, salty, sweet, musky, acid... he got jealous that all those men had fucked his boy... he got then incredibly hot inside. Those guys, taking Dave over and over. And that succulent quarterback brawny ass deserved every seed shot. Reynolds guessed the sperm he was eating from his offspring was mostly cop semen. Dave had confessed one night that he had a fantasy of a police officer gangbang. Maybe their neighbor, Officer Kenneth Price, had gotten a turn. Jim felt a hand on his crotch, then fingers fumbling with the zipper. His buddy Paul. Freeing his cock, while from his right Joe O'Connell's beefy paw caressed his thigh. The Irish stud was now coming off his intense felch high deep as his boy Matt settled into his lap. Jim pulled back to acknowledge his fellow fathers and to catch his breath. The white, transluscent slop kept running from Dave's hole. Juicy clumps would pool up at the anal entrance, growing bigger and heavier til they broke and started running down Dave's fuzzy perineum. Or falling straight to his dad's lap. Quickly, Paul's strong hand massaged the spermy discharge right on to the father's stiff, elongated pole. Dave became impatient and hiked his ass back, grinding the firm rump. His butt gyrations pressed his slimy crack right into his father's grunting face. Rubbing Jim's mouth, nose, and forehead up and down, back and forth, soaking even more seed into an already drenched hairline. He got wilder, more driven, rubbing his butt down his dad's chin, then neck, and onto his chest. And the man juice kept dripping, flowing out of that perfect hole. Jim's silk tie was ruined for sure, but it didn't matter, the boy's horniness was turning the father on something awful. He grabbed Dave's buns and set them back up in position. And dove right in. That cum reservoir was still full, flowing and gathering right past the tight gates of the quarterback's pucker. Jim's tongue powerdrilled the resistance out of that hole, mining for more of the precious deposit inside. He wasn't disappointed. Paul Harrison's suit was already a little wet from Dave Reynold's stray juice when his son Jeff trotted out. Blond and blue-eyed like his dad, the varsity wrestler was beefy and hot. He'd taken 38 loads, which made his angelic face beam in pride. "Get up here, boy," Paul growled, now eager for his own kid's induction. "You full?" "Yeah Dad," Jeff cried as he scrambled in position. "Those guys from your office did me. Mr. Collins alone shot what had to be a quart of his juice in me." Paul smiled hungrily and parted Jeff's hairy cheeks. He licked and felt that fuck ooze drip right out onto his tongue. He sucked in the salty sluice, and kept licking. It was a magical, primeval fountain of youth and virility. He could drink cum from his boy's abused butt forever. Only what started as a manageable ooze became a flood that the older Harrison wasn't prepared for. The thick muck caught in his windpipe, sending the man wheezing and coughing. He pulled back and coughed out a thick gob of mucus and sperm as he tried to get his breath back. Jim patted him, concerned. "You OK, buddy?" Paul nodded, still red-faced. "Yeah," he nodded. He didn't know how the other men had been able to swallow all that semen. He took a breath and used his tongue to gather whatever lost salty jizz still clung to his flushed lips. He then sealed off his son's dripping spermhole with his licking tongue. Now Jim and Art were helping out, each with a hand to pry apart Jeff's bulky wrestler cheeks. Dave Reynolds' finger was worming its way into his friend's tight opening, teasing the elastic ring open, pulling out more slop straight onto the father's grateful tongue. The quarterback felt so hot touching the spot of father-son connection. "He tight, boy?" Jim asked him. "Man, Dad, is he!" "So, hot, Paul," Jim said to his friend. "Watching you lick your boy out." Paul stopped only to reply. "Can't compare to that scene just now between you and Dave. Fuck!" He pressed his mouth onto Jeff's leaking anus, a full-on french kiss. He swore his son's inner lining was kissing him back, feeding him that anonymous joy juice. The ritual continued. Onward to Art and his boy Alan. The Jackson boy was also modest, though with a toned body. He stepped out in his jockstrap, fresh from taking his twentieth load. "Oh, Dad! Unh! Ungh! God, that's incredible. Lick my hole." Alan was apparently a talker. "Those guys fucked me, Dad. I didn't think I could take another, but the guys just kept stepping up. Shoving their cocks in." Art was normally an overly-protective father, but hearing his boy talk so filthily about getting violated over and over drove him mad with lust. He gave Alan a tongue lashing half to reward him, half to punish him. In the process, sperm started to dribble down his chin and corded neck. The wetness soaked his white shirt collar through. Then to the Ferris men for the last pair. The crowd in the room erupted in glee. John Ferris, star hitter on the baseball team, had big, impressive biceps and a nice, stubby, fat cock that seemed to hang heavy with sperm. He'd taken 29 men that afternoon. By now, the spectators had long unzipped and were nursing their aching erections. Some had shot, unable to hold off. "Hey buddy!" a lawyer cried, turning around to the owner of a feed supply company who sat behind him, "watch were you shoot that thing." The man's hair and back of his suit were drenched. "Ah lighten up, Wilson!" another cried. The "volunteers" of the night started filing in, in order to watch their handiwork. It was standing room only in the back and edges of the room, as happy and drained athletes, cops, politicians and businessmen watched on. When John Ferris finally squirmed his way down on to his father's lap, the first part of the induction was complete. Since Dave had beaten the record, Jim Reynolds got to go first. He followed closely behind his boy and watched his flesh and blood lie down on the wooden table. Dave lifted his meaty quarterback legs as Jim stood in between them, rubbing his engorged cock along that sperm and spit wet crack. "Come on, Dad," Dave whispered, "Fuck me. Add your load to those guys." Jim penetrated the tight, wet sphincter. "Jesus Christ!" That ass felt fantastic against his bare daddy bone. Dave wrapped his legs around his Dad's waist and urged that meaty ass to push his dad's heavy log in and out. When he looked up, Mayor McKinney stood before him, cock poking up angrily from an unzipped crotch. "Whaddya say, Reynolds? You broke our record. I think you deserve it." Dave didn't answer but simply closed his quarterback mouth over the man's prick. His dad fucked harder between his legs. "You ready, Carlson?" Jim cried out to the winner of the first raffle. The middle manager was squatting right behind the fucking couple, ready to felch fresh father sperm. "Ready, Jim, fucking seed your boy!" Afterward, there were rounds of congratulations as one by one the townsmen came to congratulate the inductees and their fathers. Handshakes, backslaps, and hearty teasing. Jim walked over to personally thank some of the volunteers. His neighbor Ken Price among them. 32, muscles on muscle, chest dusted in dirty blond hair. "Jim!" the hunky officer friendly greeted him. "Best induction yet." "That's cause you finally got to fuck Dave," Jim accused with his poker face, "How long ya been waiting for that?" Officer Price sheepishly stammered. "Sorry, Jim... I didn't... I mean, I hope." Jim Reynolds' smile broke. "Just teasing ya buddy, fucking's what this thing's all about. Besides," he lowered his voice, "It turned me on to think I was sucking out your seed." Price laughed in relief. "You had me worried, guy. Hey - I got a friend I want you to meet. Hey Mike! Jim, this is Chief Mike McCarty from the San Juacinto force, Chief, this is Jim Reynolds." The two shook hands. The police chief was even more virile than Price. The man, for his part, thought the elder Reynolds as hot as the son. "Man, your boy's something else," he complimented. "I went at him twice." Jim blushed and leaned in. "Yeah, Dave his a thing for cops." "Yeah? He sure was hot to trot after me and the boys got through with him. Was gonna go for a third, only we ran out of time." "Why don't you and Ken come over to our place after this? Bring a few of your boys if you want." Ken's face lit up. "Man, Reynolds, are you saying...?" Jim nodded. "Sure am. I think Dave's really worked up now." He wondered how his other son, Chris, would fit into the picture, but those details could be ironed out later. As the gathering wound down and the Reynolds started leaving, Jim felt a hand on his shoulder. Paul Harrison. "Man, Jim, we gotta find a night next week. Tag team our boys. Whaddya think?" All the time, Paul's eyes swept Dan's form, barely less obscene in T-shirt and sweatpants. Jim noticed Paul's shamelessness with a laugh. He had the hots for the younger Harrison as much as Paul lusted after his boy. "Hell, yeah." "Make it a threesome, fellas," Joe O'Connell interjected as he approached. "And we should add the Ricks, too." "Told you they'd like it, Dad," Dave Reynolds reminded as he locked eyes with his buddy Jeff's father. Yeah, he bet the elder Harrison really knew how to fuck.