Date: Fri, 26 Feb 2010 13:19:26 -0800 (PST)
From: dws202 <dws202@yahoo.com>
Subject: Making It Dirty for Daddy

This story is a work of fiction and contains scenes of a sexualy nature
between a father and his teenage son. If it is illegal for you to read this
story stop now. Feel free to contact me at dws202@yahoo.com if it turns you
on, or if you would like to share any thoughts of a similar nature.

Making It Dirty For Daddy

I had my suspicions about my dad -- I guess you could call me sneaky seeing
as I was only 15 and kept trying to catch him doing something he shouldn't
be. For most kids my age it was the other way around, but not for me. My
first clue came after I found my dad's secret stash of porno mags in his
home office. They were straight, but on closer inspection it seemed like
the ones with pictures of women with guys were more worn, more used. And
the pages in those where you could see the guys' private parts seemed to
have been viewed and handled a lot more than the pages of just the women. I
had my suspicions that my dad liked cock, and I should know because even at
that age I knew I liked it too, and I liked looking at those pics of the
guys a lot more too. It made me hard and I loved to masturbate looking at
their long shafts and hairy balls pumping in and out of the women in the
photos. I thought at the time I might be looking for some validation by
trying to determine that he had the same sexual fantasies as I did, but as
it turned out I guess I was looking for a lot more.

My dad was a good guy, and good looking too for a middle aged man in his
late 40's, with a decent figure, although beginning to show a little bit of
a paunch in the middle. I knew that because I used to sneak a peek at him
going in and out of the shower or in his bedroom when dressing. It made my
dick hard to look at him and see his body, something I figured was normal
and that other kids like me probably felt too. I liked looking at every
aspect of his body, especially those that were different than mine--his
fat cock, his hairy balls and ass crack. They showed up in my mind's eye
late at night along with the other male private parts I had seen in the
magazines, when I jacked off furiously to relieve my sexual tension. I had
learned about masturbation from a few male friends who initiated me into
it--one even had suggested we do it to each other, which we did and which
I liked. He also confessed that he liked to look at his older brother's
dirty mags, and had managed to swipe a few. I begged him to let me have one
if he could spare it, and he agreed. The first night I was alone I pulled
it out of my book bag where I had hidden it and saw the title--"Bi Guys."
Even a few pages into it and I knew this one was much better than any of my
dad's magazines. I had heard about the things guys can do with other guys
and fantasized about all those things too, but seeing for the first time
two guys doing those things to each other--sucking each other's cocks,
shoving them into each other's asses--made me hotter than I had ever
been. I got a lot of mileage out of that magazine, and I suppose the pal
who gave it to me might have been trying to signal some sexual intentions,
but I let it pass. I'm not sure why, but something about those older, more
muscular and hairier guys in the magazine thrilled me more than the thought
of another slim and hairless teen guy like me. Increasingly, my fantasies
turned toward thoughts of being initiated into sex by one of the older guys
in the magazines. Even more surprisingly, the face on them morphed into my
dad's as I rode a wave of masturbatory lust, always bringing me to a wild
climax in my nighttime activities.

At first the realization that I lusted after my own father came hesitantly,
and I often pushed it aside from my thoughts as too sick and perverted. But
as the masturbatory fantasies became stronger and stronger, leading me to
ever more incredible climaxes, I knew that this was a desire I couldn't
ignore for long. But realizing that desire, and fantasizing about it, is
one thing. Acting on it is quite another, and no amount of fantasizing and
peeking would make my father want to do the same things I wanted to do. I
had consigned myself to just the fantasies and the peeking, however, having
no other choice. My lust made me bolder, and one day after school, when I
knew my mom was away for the afternoon, I devised a plan. My dad often
worked from his home office, and when he did he would often go jogging in
the afternoons and come back and take a shower. He had a left a note saying
he was out jogging and would be back soon, so I added another note that I
was going over to a friend's house and would be back for dinner. My plan
was to hide in the storage closet in his office, which was almost never
opened. I figured if I left the door cracked just a bit my father wouldn't
see me, and if he did take a shower he would be more likely to have little
or nothing on if he thought no one was in the house, and I could peep to my
heart's content.  I heard him come in, but after calling out my name and
getting no response I then heard another voice coming from
downstairs. Someone else was obviously with my dad, and I was trapped in
this stupid closet with no plan on how to get out. I heard footsteps on the
stairs, and waited peering through the door crack as I saw my dad enter the
office followed by a married neighbor from down the street named
Tom. Without a word, my dad crossed over to the sofa in his office and sat
down, spreading his legs as he did. Also wordlessly, Tom then knelt in
front of my dad, pulled his jogging shorts and underwear down around his
ankles, exposing my dad's rock hard and cock, which Tom promptly swallowed
into his mouth.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing--my dad moaning and pushing Tom's
head down further into his crotch, Tom furiously pumping up and down on my
dad's cock. My own pecker strained against the crotch of my trousers as I
felt pre-cum oozing into my shorts, but I didn't dare make a move. I simply
watched as all my suspicions were borne out--my dad did get off with
other guys. As if what I had seen hadn't been enough, my dad soon pulled
Tom's head by the hair off of his cock, and smiled down at him. Tom smiled
back, and stood up. Before my unbelieving eyes, Tom practically jumped out
of his own jogging shorts as my father lay down face up on the couch. Tom
turned toward my father's feet as he straddled him on the couch,
simultaneously taking dad's cock into his mouth again as he lowered his
backside ever closer to dad's face. Dad pulled himself up slightly to grab
Tom's muscular hairy rump, spreading his ass cheeks apart and shoving his
face directly between them. The knowledge of what my dad's tongue was doing
in Tom's hole made my eyes cross over in lust, and as Tom eventually turned
around and lowered himself onto my dad, his thick throbbing cock
disappearing quickly up Tom's willing hole, I felt wave after wave of hot
spunk spilling into my shorts and oozing down the side of my legs.

I was absolutely petrified, and felt paralyzed in that closet. The
intensity of my orgasm almost caused me to back out, and before I knew it
the hot scene in dad's office was over, Tom and Dad were getting dressed
and exchanging chit chat, and I remained frozen in the closet, feeling the
cum starting to grow cold and stiff in my trousers. As Dad saw Tom out I
slipped soundlessly down the hall and into my own bedroom, where I remained
until I was sure my dad had returned upstairs and jumped in the
shower. With the running water to cover me, I was able to clean up and
change without him knowing I was home, and when my mom returned home a few
minutes later I acted as if I had just gotten in myself. At dinner that
night, they kept asking if I was OK, and I realized I was no longer able to
look my dad in the face. I got away as quickly as I could, and despite the
intensity of the orgasm I had let loose in the office closet, I managed to
have three more that night that shook my teenage body just as strongly as
the one I had enjoyed watching my father lick another man's hole and shove
his cock into it.

I suppose I could have been satisfied with that--very few, if any, boys
who lust after their own dad ever get to see him getting nasty with another
man, I thought. It was true that what I had seen was enough to fulfill my
wildest dreams and fantasies for a lifetime, but after only a few weeks a
nagging thought began to cloud my fantasy. If I had been right to suspect
my dad's sexual inclinations, and had basically caught him red-handed at
it, why was I so content to just lie in bed night after night and fantasize
about what I had seen? As powerful as the orgasms I still enjoyed while
thinking about my dad and Tom were, didn't I also have the right to some
sexual release? After all, my dad was able to sneak around behind mom's
back and do pervy things with the guy down the street, so why shouldn't I
have a little fun too? I realized then that I had my dad over a barrel, and
it was up to me to turn that to my advantage.

I picked a day when I knew he would be working at home, and when mom would
be away until later in the evening.  I got home from school, gave myself a
brief mental pep talk in my room, and went down the hall into dad's
office. He looked up and smiled, asked how school was, made some small
talk, then mentioned he ought to be getting back to work and if I wanted to
go out to be sure I made it home in time for supper--leftovers, with mom
gone. He turned back to his work as I stood there, calmly but intently
staring at him. He looked up.

"Anything wrong, sport?'

"No, I just was wondering, was Tom here at the house a few weeks ago? I
thought I saw him leaving."

My dad looked at me carefully, and said Tom had dropped by to borrow
something, yes. Why?

"Just wondered. That was two weeks ago Tuesday, right?

"I guess so," said dad.

"You were wearing your blue jogging shorts, and Tom had the gray sweats on
with black running shoes, right?"

My dad chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess so, what's gotten into you all of
a sudden, is something wrong?"

I told him no, nothing was wrong. Then I strode over to the couch, sat
down, and as if I were watching some other person--not me--perform an
act from a play, I explained in great detail how I had been hiding in the
closet and exactly what I had seen that day, leaving out nothing except for
what I was experiencing while watching Dad and Tom. My boldness surprised
even me, and I realized I hadn't even been really looking at my dad the
entire time I had been explaining to him what I saw. When I finished, I
looked at his face, which was ashen and frightened.  He was frozen with
fear, but finally managed to stammer, "why were you hiding in the closet?"

"Oh, I guess I just wanted to see what you guys were up to. I thought you
might have been cheating on mom, but I didn't have any idea you were doing
anything like what I saw. Mom would really freak out if she knew."

He immediately crossed over and knelt in front of me, pleading with me to
understand how much he loved mom but just had some weaknesses. How he
didn't want to hurt mom or me, and how sorry he was. He swore he would
never do anything like that again, and asked me to believe him. I stood up,
walked a few steps, turned around and said, "No."

He was confused. He stammered again, and asked what I meant. "I mean no, I
don't believe you. I saw how much you enjoyed those nasty things you did
with Tom, and I know you'll do them again." He stood up and swore once more
he would never again do those things and begged me not to tell mom. I
walked over to him, again with a boldness I couldn't believe was arising
from me, and said," You will do those things again, but if you do them with
me, I won't tell mom." His eyes bulged with fear and surprise as I reached
out and began rubbing his crotch. The shock had left him completely
flaccid, but the scene had caused the opposite reaction in me, so I grabbed
his hand and placed it on the erection emanating from my jeans. He stared
down in horror before practically jumping away from me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Have you lost your mind?" No, I
said calmly, you heard me right. Do those things with me now, and I'll keep
my mouth shut. He tried to smile and speak calmly to me, saying, "I think
you're just confused sport, you don't really mean what you're saying. You
can't possibly want to do this, it's..." He hesitated, wondering obviously
how not to offend me as I had the upper hand. "It's wrong, it's sick. What
I did with Tom was different, it's not something I can do with you. If you
have feelings you want to discuss that's fine, but please, just promise me
you'll drop this and not tell your mom, it'll ruin everything for
everybody."

I walked over to the office door and closed it. I turned around as he
stared at me silently, fear and pleading in his eyes. He watched with a
mixture of terror and curiosity as I removed my shoes, jeans and shirt,
standing in my tighty whities a few inches away from him. I addressed him
again. "If you don't want mom to find out what you did and ruin everything,
start by feeling this."  I helped him along again, placing his right hand
on my rock-hard, moist crotch. He looked down, not moving his hand but not
removing it either. He said, almost in a whisper, "where did you learn
about these things?"

"From watching you," I replied uncharitably. "Now feel my cock." He started
at the mention of the word, obviously taken aback at my knowledge of
it. His repulsion only turned me on more, and I grabbed his hand and began
rubbing it over my crotch, grinding it in as I pumped his palm with my
organ. "Please don't make me do this," he whispered, his eyes moist with
tears. "I can't do this." "I think," I answered, "that you'll find out you
can."

I took his hand off my crotch and lead him over to the couch, pushing him
to sit down. I stood in front of him, soaking up that look on his face, a
mixture of fear and repulsion only barely masking a deep and hidden lust
that made me hornier than I had ever been before. The power I had over him
made it all the more intense, and gave me a boldness I had never know. I
slipped off my shorts, turned around and bent over slightly, presenting my
pink hairless bunghole to dad's face, and ordered him," now lick it like
you licked Tom's." After a few seconds of hesitation, I reached around and
grabbed the back of his head, forcing his face deep into the mounds of my
ass. He couldn't breathe, and when he moved back slightly to catch his
breath I positioned my hole against his nose so that he would take in its
scent. I rubbed up and down, back and forth, intensely enjoying the feel of
his stubble on my ass, and soon I felt the hot wet touch of his tongue on
my sphincter. Nature took over, pushing aside the earlier revulsion my dad
had felt at taking his own son's cherry. His tongue probed deeper into my
shithole, and soon I was bent over, hands on my ankles, my dad working his
tongue in and out of my hole furiously. I enjoyed this for a few minutes,
then I stopped, turning around to face him. My hard pecker was throbbing in
front of my naked hairless body, just a few inches from his face. My dad,
still in a business suit but with a raging hard on arising from his crotch,
looked up at me. The sight of my face brought him back to his former,
guilty self. A second ago he had been enjoying a juicy, teen
bunghole--now he remembered it belonged to his own son. The feeling of
power and lust came rushing back into my body as I grabbed his hair and
lowered his head onto my shaft. He never closed his eyes, he kept looking
up at me staring down at his face as he sucked my cock. My eyes, I knew,
were hard with revenge and lust, while his were mournful and wet, sick at
the prospect of being forced to watch himself give a blowjob to his teenage
son. But his mouth told a different story, and his expert tongue brought me
to the brink of release. I pulled him off me, and then sat down next to
him. I asked him if he was enjoying himself now, and he looked down and
whispered,"you know I'm not. Please stop this now." But as I had known
there was more to him than meets the eye before, I now suspected he was
lying to me again. He was enjoying it, but couldn't bring himself to admit
it, which made it all the more hot for me.

Needless to say, I took advantage of the time we had remaining that
afternoon before mom got home. I took my time, indulging in every twisted
fantasy and scene I had cooked up in my head all those nights under the
covers. First, I made him sit on the couch with just his zipper down while
I knelt in front of him and sucked the big fat cock poking out of his
pants, getting off imagining the view he was forced to endure--his naked
son prone before him like a little faggot, swallowing his dad's member. I
then made him eat me out again--I really liked that part--on my hands
and knees on the couch. Then I ordered him to take me from behind, keeping
his suit on with only his cock freed to enter my ass. Again, I wanted to
enjoy the thought of the view he would have. A middle-aged father, not even
bothering to undress, buttfucking his naked teenage son on the couch. It
hurt like hell, and as much as I wanted to force this situation on him, I
almost had him back out due to the pain. But the idea of dad taking my hole
doggy style in his business clothes made it easier to endure the pain, as
did the obvious pleasure my dad got out of my wincing and moaning, then
outright screaming, as he entered me. After an afternoon of being
humiliated, he finally had a chance to inflict a little damage himself,
which eventually turned both him and me on. But I wasn't finished quite
yet. I stopped him before he came, brought him over to his desk and sat him
down there, and then straddled him, his cock now quite easily sliding into
my battered and slick boyhole. He moaned with pleasure as his cock sank
into me, moans which only grew louder as I bent over and whispered into his
ear. "Fuck me daddy, please fuck me, put your big fat cock into my hole."
When he did come, the jizz was so strong and powerful that it immediately
began oozing out of my hole and down onto his pants leg. I looked down and
managed to say," I guess you're enjoying it now--what changed your mind?"
He smiled, opened his eyes and said,"because you make it so damn dirty, you
little whore," before taking my cock into his mouth and sucking me dry.

And that's what he said every time after that, whenever he snuck into my
room late at night, or took me upstairs whenever the house was empty, or
suggested a long ride into the country, just the two of us--"come on
baby, make it dirty for daddy." And I did.