Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2017 11:07:19 -0500
From: a4f tales <a4ftales@gmail.com>
Subject: "12 Tales of Christmas II: Moving In"

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com. You can find this one, and the pic
that inspired it, here:
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/post/161808517539/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

"Welcome home, bud," I said as he shut the trunk, a big smile on his face
as he stepped up to me, wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and gave
me a firm hug, slapping my back a couple times for emphasis.

"Thanks, glad to be home." he said. "And merry post-Christmas, I guess," he
added with a chuckle.

He smelled good, damn good, some kind of light, clean fragrance on him as I
savored the moment. My boy, done with school and the holiday stuff at his
mother's. Back with me again, and even though it had only been a couple
weeks since his December graduation ceremony, I'd missed him more than I
thought I would. But he was here now, and that was all that mattered.

"C'mon, let's get your stuff inside," I said, reluctantly breaking the hug,
stepping back to take in the sight of him, standing there in the California
sunshine. As always, he looked fine - finer than ever, really, with his
ballcap tugged low over his handsome face, his shirt undone a couple of
buttons, showing off the smooth skin of his firm upper chest. He'd really
gotten the best of me and Maria, and had turned out better looking than
either of us, a mix of my build, his mother's Latina coloring, and a
good-looking face that had made the girls a little nuts for him since he
was a kid.

Definitely not a kid anymore, though - not with the size of the bulge
packing the front of his pants all snugly. Genes from my side of the
family, I couldn't help but think with a little bit of pride. 22 going on
23 now, and definitely all man, that was for sure. He was a damn fine sight
to behold, had been for several years now, and I couldn't help but feel a
mix of wistfulness and envy - he was really coming into his prime, handsome
and athletic and bright and young, a world full of possibilities awaiting
him.

He didn't have all that much with him - I'd brought a load back from his
off-campus house after graduation, and all that was left was a couple of
duffel bags of clothes and a box of books. I set them down at the foot of
the stairs, and as I stood upright, it was his turn to hug me, strong young
arms snaking around my waist as he nestled into me from behind, his chin
tucked over my shoulder as he squeezed me again. I got a serious case of
the warm-and-fuzzies all through me, and took a moment just to savor him
and us, together again at last.

"Christmas felt endless," he murmured. "All I could think about was getting
back here. Being with you, big guy."

I turned around in his arms, taking in the sight of him, up close and
personal, and in private. Shit, seeing him as a man now was still an
awesome thing, after twenty-plus years of watching him grow up. I squeezed
the firm, muscle-packed arms beneath his shirt, feeling him tense his
biceps up for me. His grin was a mix of shit-eating and confident, the man
in him winning out over the boy he'd been.

"I like this on you," I said, reaching up to graze my thumb over the little
patch of dark beard on his chin, all carefully trimmed and shaped, setting
off the boyish handsomeness of his features. "Damn, you're looking more and
more like a man every time I see you, kiddo."

"More of a man, you mean, Dad," he said. "Your man, right?"

My guts tingled a little at that, at the easy self-confidence, the depth of
his voice, the warm intent of his brown-eyed gaze. At his words, more than
anything. My son - my man. Yeah.

The kiss came naturally, his lips full and soft on mine, moist and a little
chewing-gum minty, parting naturally as our mouths worked together. He drew
his arms tighter around me as I did the same to him, pulling each other in
close as the kiss deepened, lips smacking softly together. The last time
we'd kissed had been his graduation weekend a couple of weeks back - a
hard, hungry, months-apart kind of kiss, full of heat and lust and
need. This one, though, was a kiss of a different kind - long, warm, deep,
passionate in a whole different way. Just savoring each other and the
electric connection of our lips and tongues.

"Let's get your stuff put up, before we get too carried away," I said when
we reached a natural break point in the kiss, squeezing the close-cropped
bristles on the back of his neck, the way he'd always loved. My cock was
throbbing inside my jeans, full and hard, and from the constant graze of
his big young bulge against mine, he was feeling it just as much as I was.

"We are gonna get carried away though, right Dad?" he grinned over his
shoulder at me as he picked up one of his duffels and started up the
stairs, two at a time. My eyes flicked down at the bulge of his firm,
muscular ass as it stretched against his pants, and I felt the old,
familiar hunger inside me intensify. I couldn't help but reach up to give
one solid globe a deep, playful squeeze.

"Fuck yeah, I thought so," he chuckled, heading for the landing as I picked
up his other things and followed behind him.

We got to the top of the stairs, and I deposited his things inside the door
of his bedroom. We both stood there for a moment, looking at the room - the
queen bed up against the wall under the windows, a Cardinals poster over
his desk, his high school baseball trophies ranked along the bookshelf. His
mother had a couple of kids with her husband, so he didn't have a room over
there - this was his space. So I was surprised when he turned around, bag
in hand, and headed across the hall to the master bedroom - my room.

"Uh..." I said as he walked in and set his bag down at the foot of my bed.

He stepped over to me where I stood in the doorway, that mix of humor,
respect and confidence in his expression that I'd really started to notice
on him these past few years. A man coming into his own, a fine young man
slipping firm arms back around my waist as I kind of gaped at him.

"I figured this is how you wanted it to be, Dad," he said, that smile of
his filling out as he squeezed his arms around me, looking at me levelly,
but respectfully. Like the man he was now. "I mean, after summer, and
all..."

He didn't need to say any more than that. I'm sure he knew exactly what I
was thinking, the hot rush of images flooding through the front of my
head. All the sweat and heat of summer, before he'd gone back to school -
the glow of sweat on his fine-honed young muscles, the way my bedsheets
pooled around the muscular trimness of his hips and ass as he gazed down at
me and thrust his hard young cock up inside my tingling ass. The taste of
his tongue, thick and wet and assured as it danced slowly with mine. How my
cum splashed hot across the hair and skin of my stomach as my boy fucked my
load out of me, before plowing his own into my depths.

"I'm home now, Dad," he said, his eyes deep and brown and locked on mine as
he squeezed me again, drawing me subtly closer. Deeper into his warm young
embrace. "Came home to be with you. Be your man."

I opened my mouth, not sure what I was going to say, just that something
needed to be said - I was his father, after all. The man of the
house. Only, looked like there were two men of the house, now. I hadn't
really thought about it that way, and I sure didn't have time now, as he
leaned in close again and kissed me.

I'd never gone in for that whole alpha-male thing - I figured real men
didn't need to obsess over labels and identity like that. I'd always been a
pretty take-charge, in-control kind of guy - my father had been a quietly
confident and competent kind of guy, and I'd done my best to be like
him. It had made me a good soldier and a pretty good boss now that I was a
civilian. Looked like Damon was taking after me like I'd taken after my
father, too, quietly asserting himself as he snaked his strong young arms
around me and kissed me like the lover he'd fast become since high
school. Whatever I'd been thinking of saying to him, at the confident way
he'd set his stuff down at the foot of my bed, claiming his space in here
alongside me, it was gone now. Gone in the slow, skilled thrust and dance
of his tongue on mine, in the way his strong ballplayer's hands slid down
my back to cup the muscles of my ass and gently squeeze, in the heavy,
insistent throb of his big young cock against mine.

I couldn't help but think again of last summer, all the time we'd spent
getting each other hard and naked, all the taboo intensity of our lusty,
incestuous coupling. It wasn't our first summer together like that - we'd
had a few summers together exploring the new intensity of our dad-son
dynamic by that point. But it had been our first summer of him fucking
me. Damon enjoyed being fucked, and I sure loved fucking his sexy jock ass,
but as mutual as we were with everything else we did to each other, it had
somehow never crossed my mind that he'd want to fuck me. Maybe it was
because I hadn't taken a dick like that since I was in the service, I don't
know. But when he'd pressed his nearly naked body up the length of mine on
the couch last May, looked me deep in the eyes, and asked if he could fuck
me, I found myself saying yes before I even knew it.

We fucked all summer, and it felt like a whole new chapter of our taboo
bond, a new level of father-son lust to be explored. He still liked to be
fucked, there was no way to fake his enthusiasm when I worked my big Dad
dick up his tail, but god damn if he didn't treat a man's ass like a
natural-born top. It had been kind of uncomfortable at first, but the way
my son used his tongue and fingers, and then his cock, had me consistently
fountaining cum up the length of my torso, my toes curling, clutching the
bulging mass of his big young biceps as he stared down at me with a lusty
grin and fucked another big young load up inside of me. By the time he'd
headed back to school in August, things were definitely different between
us. Better, really, but the way my son had shown himself to me, as the man
he'd become, had given me a lot to think about in the months since then. A
lot to think about, and a lot to stroke about.

I didn't need the memories now, though. Not with the way he was pushing my
polo shirt up my chest as we sucked on each other's tongues and grunted low
and deep. I found myself raising my arms automatically, Damon breaking his
assertive kiss long enough to get the shirt up past my face, leaning right
back in to reconnect as soon as the shirt cleared the crown of my head. No
time to overthink things now, as I kissed him back hard, the depth and
intensity coming roaring back into our bodies like we hadn't ever been
apart. I worked my hands over his trim hips and the muscular flare of his
ass as he hunched himself into me, groping the big muscles of mine right
back.

Just a few buttons and a push took care of Damon's shirt, and while he
shook it free of his wrists, I groped the firm, smooth flatness of his
pecs. Naturally smooth, not a bit like me in that respect, strong from
years of baseball. He flexed them up for me, and I growled and licked the
warm skin of them hungrily, fastening my lips to one big, stiff brown
nipple as he moaned and clutched the back of my head.

"Fuck I missed you, Dad," he groaned, rubbing the back of my neck as I
licked and sucked on the stiff peak of his jock kid tit. "Missed this bad,
big guy."

He ran his hands up my lats as he leaned in and started to nuzzle the side
of my neck, tracing his lips over it before crushing them against the skin,
a warm, wet kiss as his tongue licked at the skin of my neck, up to my ear,
making me shiver and groan around his nip.

"Big sexy fuck, Dad," he growled into my ear, all deep and low and so
fucking manly, I couldn't help but shiver inside. "My big sexy fuckin'
dude."

"My sexy fuckin' kid," I growled back as I leaned up to meet his mouth
again. "My sexy fuckin' man."

Damon let out a little half-grunt, half-whimper at that, and fed me his
tongue again. Our hands grabbed at each other's belts, yanking and
releasing, unbuttoning, unzipping. Damn but it was a treat to slide my
hands down his waist, pushing his pants down from the inside as I felt the
hard-carved muscles of his hips, his glutes, his upper thighs. He was doing
the same to me, moaning into my mouth as we felt each other up. I was damn
glad I'd kept at it in the gym. I'd always been pretty fit, but being with
my boy like this had kept me motivated to fight back against middle age. I
wanted to be hot to him, like he was hot to me. Show him the body he'd
inherited from me, to its best effect. He sure seemed to appreciate it, as
he stroked me all over and kissed me deep, and yeah, I wasn't blind to the
covetous, lusty way he stroked and squeezed my ass through my boxer
briefs. The ass he'd fucked, and well, for most of last summer. Hell, I was
doing the exact same thing to his prime young tail, all high and tight and
hard and round, all in my hands as we went to town on each other.

I ran my hands over the dark, bristly shortness of his hair as he crouched
down between my spread thighs, stroking his hands up them, looking up at me
sitting side-saddle on the bed above him and nodding approvingly. I ran my
thumb over the little ruff of beard on his chin, grinning at the
typically-Damon way he'd shaped it, all the care he put into his
appearance. Not a vain kid, necessarily, but he'd always been good-looking,
and he'd always taken good care of himself. It had made him even more
popular, and while it was a hot, secret kick to see the way people looked
at him once he hit his mid-teens and started to get really fine, it was
fucking mind-blowing when he'd come to me the summer after his senior year,
and told me how fine he'd always thought I was. How hot he thought I was. A
mind-blowing summer after that in all kinds of ways.

He grinned up at me as I scratched his chin with my thumb, then ducked his
head, those full lips parting, his tongue pink and gleaming as it licked
the pad of my thumb, then down the underside of it. He locked his big brown
eyes on mine and sucked my thumb to the root, making me flow precum even
harder inside my straining boxer briefs. That insanely hot combo of the
sensations, the sounds of his mouth working wetly on my digit, the happy,
deep-chested grunts he was letting out as we gazed at each other.

Damon primed me like that for a couple minutes, coming up off my thumb with
a gasp, his lips glossy with spit as he grinned up at me, tipped me an
incredibly sexy wink, then reached for the waistband of my shorts.

"Aw shit aw shit!" I hissed through gritted teeth, my ass clenching tight
as it came up off the bed. I couldn't even look down at the sight of my son
swallowing my cock, all skilled and self-assured as those full lips slicked
their way down my shaft, his tongue somehow like sandpaper and silk at the
same time as it lavished my throbbing hard flesh. Watching him do it might
make me want to cum even more, and there was still so much more to do.

He'd been good at this that first summer - too good for it to have been his
first time, and we talked a lot about that afterwards, how he'd prepped
himself for coming onto me like he did. It still fired my nuts off bigtime,
the stories he'd told me, about dugouts and best buds' bedrooms, the back
seat of the team bus, the front seat of a Silverado, the hot, salty loads
he'd coaxed out of balls, down his throat, all the prep work he'd done
before he came to me. Wanting to be good for me, so he could show me how
much he meant it, all these things he felt for me.

He was beyond good then, and even better now. No lie, the best head I'd
ever had, and not just because it was my boy who was giving it to me. I
told him so as I cupped the back of his head, listening to the lewd, wet,
gulping sounds of him sucking, making fresh spit for me as he swallowed
even more, bathing my throbbing Dad cock in the warmth of it. It overflowed
his lips, streamed down my shaft, into my bush and over my balls, the warm
trickle of it making things even better. I felt the graze of his fingertips
over my balls, through the hair I kept trimmed back ever since he'd done it
for me four summers ago. Spreading the wetness of his spit over the skin,
his touch light but confident, stroking my big full balls as he sucked the
hard column of flesh he'd come from.

The way he stroked down over my taint, through the fur there, all warm and
moist with sweat and his spit, made me shiver all over. I finally looked
down at him as he teased the skin with his fingertips, and found him gazing
up at me. Kind of adoringly, yeah, but also with that directness he'd found
lately. A man's gaze, not just a son's. My man, I thought, and shivered all
over again, feeling the head of my cock throb precum into his swirling
spit. My thighs spread a little wider, giving him more access, and he took
me up on it, grazing the tip of his middle finger over the hair that lined
the tightness of my hole, making me tingle all up through my core. He made
a deep low, affirmative noise that sizzled all the way down my cock,
buzzing my balls, making me grunt and squirm and open up to him, and then
he slipped his finger inside of me.

Fuck, if I was struggling not to cum before, the feeling of Damon's finger
stroking my nut while he swallowed my cock was making it a real challenge
to hold onto my load. I clutched the covers in one hand and the back of my
son's slow-bobbing head in the other and held on tight.

"Fuck, Dad," he growled, his voice all thick with spit when he came up off
the end of my cock a few intense minutes later. Thick strands of his spit
connected the fat head of my cock to his full lips, and the lewd way he
sucked it up, the horny grin he gave me, made me grunt with lust for him.

"Can't wait to get this inside me again, big guy," he said, giving it a
slow, spit-slicked stroke, leaning in to run his tongue up the underside of
the shaft, meeting my eyes again as he did. He had two fingers lodged
inside me now, skilfully stroking my prostate as he slow-jacked and licked
my piece, those big brown eyes alive and hungry and happy.

"Shit, me either, stud," I grunted, my voice all tight, rubbing the back of
his head. He pushed himself upright, all long, defined muscles under smooth
tan skin, his cock threatening to bust out of the skimpy little grey briefs
he was wearing. Grey and soaked dark where the thick head of his cock
pulsed at the fabric, soaking it with his pre, the patch slowly
spreading. I reached out and ran one hand up the long, hard muscle of his
thigh, feeling him flex it up for my appreciation, his fingers slowly
working inside me still.

"You will, Dad, believe it," he grinned, leaning down to buzz my lips with
his. I could taste myself on them. "But there's something else I've been
looking forward to, too."

He stroked my prostate for emphasis - as if I needed it - and fed me his
tongue again, thick with the taste of the cock that had made him.

"God, so fuckin' tight," he growled lustily many long minutes later, coming
up out of my ass, that little thatch of beard all glossy with his spit. For
all his playful lustiness earlier, he was all man, all lust now, his eyes
big and dark and intent on mine, working my cock with one hand, his other
squeezing the muscles along the back of my thigh. I was laid out on my
back, legs in the air, feeling lewd and loving it, my hole tingling from
the intense, skilful tonguework he'd laid down on it. My boy Frenched my
hole as well as he Frenched my mouth, sliding his tongue up inside of me
with the same hungry joy I felt when I did it to him. I couldn't wait to
feast on his tight-muscled ass like he'd been doing to mine, but for right
now, I was too horny to think about much more than the long, slow, probing
licks of his magical tongue, digging deep inside of me.

Why else had I cleaned myself out so thoroughly this afternoon, before he
got here? I'd known this was coming. Knew what he wanted. The thing was, I
wanted it just as bad. Maybe more. Now I was getting it, in spades.

"Let me taste you, buddy," I growled, and my kid scrambled around
obediently, presenting his briefs-straining bulge to me proudly. I loved
him in these underwear, but even more out of them, my hands yanking the
flimsy things down his athlete's thighs, his big hard cock snapping loose,
all wet-headed, a slightly darker, uncut version of my cock. Big and hard
and ready to roll. Ready for anything.

He tasted all salty and natural, clean but worn-in, musky and rich and
dense. Like a man, more and more each time, and I growled happily around
him, savoring the taste of his big, slow-leaking piece as I slid my lips
down the veiny, pulsing length of my boy. He moaned and clutched the back
of my head, letting me glide up and down on him for a couple minutes, three
of his fingers plugging my tingling, hungry Dad hole while I worked, slowly
squirming inside of me. Then he shifted around on the mattress, stretching
out towards my groin, and gave the head of my cock a slow, wet sucking that
had my toes curling. 69ing with my boy was one of those sweet, intense
pleasures that had a permanent place in my mental highlight reel, but Damon
had other plans. He was a little longer in the torso than me, long and
limber enough to spit my cock out and nuzzle his way up past my balls, his
long tongue lapping at my spit-wet taint, through the fur and up to my
hole, following the path of saliva he'd laid down a little while ago,
refreshing it as he slipped his fingers from the ring of muscle and
replacing them with his tongue, licking his way back into me.

"Your kid's eating you out while you swallow his cock, Doug," that lusty
voice in my head said. "You know what that means, don't you, buddy."

Yeah, I knew what it meant. I was no fool. I knew what he wanted, and more
than that, I knew I wanted it too. Maybe even more than he did.

The practiced, self-assured way Damon squirted lube onto his cock made my
insides churn with a complicated mix of love and lust. Awe, too - awe of
the man I'd made, the man he'd become. A good son, a good man, and an
excellent lover. He looked up at me as he slicked the big, handsome length
of his young cock up, giving me that panty-dropper of a smile he had. I
held my own superhard cock in my hand, not stroking, just reminding myself
of what my boy could do to me - do for me. I watched him squirt another
stream of lube down on the backs of the three fingers he was still slowly
working inside of me, pushing the slick, cool stuff into me, up into that
space no other man had touched for twenty years, before him. The way he
worked my hole open, prepping it with that skilful self-confidence, I knew
it now - my hole was his. And my son knew it too, as those big warm brown
eyes met mine, biting his lip a little as he worked his long, lubed fingers
up deep inside me, spreading the stuff around, spreading me open for him.

"Yeah Dad," he grunted as he pushed up into me. It wasn't nearly as tough
as the first few times this past summer, because once my boy's big cock had
tripped that old switch inside of me, he'd made a believer out of me all
over again. Just like my old buddy Anderson had, back when I was 20, in the
back of an old Army Ram pickup, parked deep in the pine trees in a sandy,
forgotten corner of Fort Bragg. Changing my perspective, making me feel
things I never thought I'd feel about myself. Making me touch myself when I
was alone, reliving the intensity of the sensations inside of me, making me
cum like a teenager all over again.

The way Damon had fucked me last summer, fucked me and filled me, had
awoken that feeling in me again. I'd kept it up as best as I could these
past few months, with my fingers and a toy, jerking myself off as I probed
up deep inside of myself, feeling lewd, feeling dirty, feeling on
fire. Ready for my boy to come back home and come to me like this again.

So it was easier now, yeah, because I knew I wanted this - no, needed
it. Needed the slick, throbbing, hot press of his hard young flesh entering
me, nothing but a slick layer of lube separating our skin as my handsome
stud kid rocked his hips and fed me seven hard inches. It was easier, but
no less intense, and I had to squeeze my cock firmly to stem the imminent
flow of my cum. My toes curled and I moaned huskily, and my boy moaned
right back with me.

"So fuckin' tight," he hissed, biting his lip again, his eyes somehow
hungry and soft at the same time as he worked that big, hungry young dick
of his up into my depths.

"So fuckin' big," I grunted back, and the pleased look on his face made me
smile. The same look he got when he received a compliment on a job well
done, a look I knew well from these past twenty years or so. For the
thousandth time since we'd gotten deep like this, I felt the powerful
twinning of paternal pride and intense manly lust, that taboo thrill
stoking the fires inside of me along with his cock.

As always, when he was complimented on his work, my boy set about trying to
do an even better job. Once he was fully embedded inside me, the trimmed
dark fur of his bush meshing with the hair on my balls, he leaned down to
buzz his lips over mine.

"I love being inside you, sir," he said, quiet and deep. "Love being your
man, Dad."

"You're one hell of a man, buddy," I murmured back, flicking my tongue
against those sensuous lips of his. "My man, son."

"Aw Dad," he grunted, and kissed me hard as he pulled his athletic hips
back, then fed me all of that handsome young dick again in one smooth,
firm, deep thrust, and we were off and running.

My cock was drooling precum all over my stomach, throbbing back to full
hardness as Damon stroked his cock over my spot, up deeper inside of me,
giving me that intense sensation of fullness to go along with the powerful
glow of pleasure on a slow burn all through my loins. I couldn't touch
myself, because I was in this for the full ride right along with him. I
didn't want it all to be over, not yet.

Instead, I ran my hands over the bulging mass of his upper arms, his
muscle-rounded shoulders, over the smooth, sweat-glowing muscles of his
square young pecs. I admired the flex and shift of his defined abs, the way
his hips articulated, the lusty, deep, intent look on his handsome face as
his gaze roved up and down my torso, from where his cock pistoned in and
out of my tight hole, up past the hard, leaking stretch of my father cock,
over the still-firm muscles of my chest, all dusted in manly fur. Then up
to meet my eyes, nodding at me, both of us feeling the essential rightness
of what we were doing. Not just the rightness of him fucking me - but god
damn, it was so right - but the rightness of being so close, so deep, a
father and son coupling in sweaty, incestuous heat. I'd never felt this way
with anybody else. Not just pleasured - connected.

We alternated between low, lusty murmuring, then stretches of wordlessness,
just pants and grunts and the slap of flesh against flesh, the slick sound
of a big cock breaching a well-lubed hole repeatedly.

"Nobody else, Dad," he half-grunted, half-moaned, his body a machine built
for pleasure, sleek and strong and precise, fucking us both up to that
fast-approaching peak. "Nobody ever... fuck... never this good..."

"Nobody like you, son," I grunted back, reaching up to stroke the sweaty
side of his face, his eyes boring deep into mine, all flushed and panting
and beautiful. "No other man... no-one..."

"Your man, Dad," he gasped, fucking harder, deeper, faster. "Wanna be
yours. Can I, Dad? Can I be your man?"

"Fuck," I growled, feeling the intensity of what he was saying rippling
through me, riding the crest of my onrushing orgasm. Fueling it. "You
already are, buddy. Daddy's man. My man. Always have been."

"Always," he hissed through clenched teeth, and I couldn't miss the
emphasis he put on that. Always. Yeah. It was a huge idea, huge and wrong
and deep, and so fucking right. I knew it was never going to be this good
with anybody else. Hell, I'd probably known it since that first summer,
when we'd first cum together.

"You gonna make your man cum, son?" I grunted. "Show me how good you are?"

"Fuck yes," he growled, taking hold of my hips more firmly, tilting them up
to dick me even deeper. We were both well and truly in the red zone now. No
stopping. No turning back. Not that either of us could. Not that either of
us wanted to. "Gonna make you cum, Dad. Make my man cum so good..."

Damon slid one hand up to cup the back of my head, possessive and
determined, his face full of lust and love and the deep, secret history of
our incestuous bond. On fire with it. He loved this as much as, maybe even
more than I did. Being his father's man.

"Cum for your man, Dad," he grunted. "Show me how much you love this. How
much you love who we are."

"You and me, son," I grunted right back, my hand around my cock now,
strumming it, scaling that last peak. "Bein' men together."

"Fuck yeah, family men," he growled. "Together, Dad. Always. Fuck!"

That pretty much did it for me, that and the intensity of his cock pounding
my prostate, the handsome face of the boy - the man - I'd made and raised
and loved like no other. Fucking me like the man he was. My man. My
son. Mine.

My cum came blasting out of my cock, hot ropes of it, painting my chest
with thick, pearly streaks as I clutched my hardon with one hand and his
hard arm with the other, gasping as I shot one of the most powerful loads
of my life, clear up to my collarbone.

"Yeah, Dad, yeah," Damon grunted with a lusty grin, then a determined look
on his handsome face. He ran his hand up from my hip, all through the thick
streaks of cum on my torso, then slid it back down, all warm and sticky,
taking firm hold of my hip again and setting a hammering pace inside of me.

"Fuckin' cummin' in my man," he moaned through gritted teeth, then his
mouth dropped open into a wide O, his dark brows knitting, all the firm,
strong muscles in his arms and torso straining in sharp relief as he
plunged his cock to the root inside of me.

"Ah Dad!" he gasped as he flooded me with his young stud cum, throbbing and
spurting deep inside of me. Not the only man who'd ever fucked me, but the
only man to ever claim me like that. No matter what I thought or said, I
knew that for a fact, now. I was his. He was mine.

Damon stayed inside me as we folded around each other, my cooling cum
pasting our torsos together as we kissed, deep and slow, the kind of long,
languid makeout we both loved, all tongues and slow-flowing spit and
satisfied grunts and murmurs. He stroked the sweaty side of my face as we
traded tongues, and again, I felt that intense sense of pride at the lover
my son had become - the man he was. A man I'd helped shape, sure, but all
of this came natural to him. It was deep inside him, like we were deep
inside each other.

When his cock eventually softened and slipped from me, I felt its absence
intensely. I watched him reach down between my thighs, felt the trickle of
his cum leaking from me, the swipe of his thumb across the puffy tingle of
my hole sending shivers through my loins. When he brought his cum-slicked
thumb up to my face, grinning with sexy confidence, and slipped his seed
into my mouth, I nearly gasped at the natural, unselfconscious power of my
stud kid.

"So what do you say, Dad?" he said after another round of slow, sticky
kisses, his hand caressing the big muscle of my chest, tracing through the
cum, sweat and fur there. Something both loving and possessive in it. I was
his, inside and out, and he was mine. No question about that, anymore. "Can
I move in here with you, or what?"

God damn, there was something so powerful and sensual about that whole
idea. Not just him sleeping in here with me, or sharing the bed. Sharing
each other, fully. Men of the house, together. I hadn't shared my bed that
way with anyone since I'd divorced his mother, and hell, for quite a while
before that, to be honest. Hadn't felt right with anyone else. But with
him, with my boy - my man - in the moment, I knew.

"We could be so good together, big guy," he murmured, ducking his head to
press his lips to my chest, those big brown eyes getting to me like they
always did. "We're too good together already not to give it a shot."

I cupped the back of his head and gave him a level look.

"If we do, I'm still your father, you know," I said. "No matter what else
we do, or are together, that comes first."

"Always, Dad," he smiled, stretching up to brush his lips over mine.
"Always my father. Always my man. And I'll always be your son, no matter
what."

"You'll always be my man, big guy," I grinned, loving the big smile that
spread across his handsome young face.

"Gonna show you, you'll see, Dad," he murmured against my lips, teasing
them. I knew he meant it - he was always good like that - and the idea of
how he intended to show me sent another electric thrill through my core.

"But if you want to make me come first sometimes, that'd be cool too," he
grinned.

"Yeah, I think that can probably be arranged," I chuckled, folding my arms
around him and pulling him back into me to see where we went next.