Date: Thu, 4 Oct 2018 03:54:25 +0000 (UTC) From: Bruno Boyd Subject: What Brandon Needs- Part 12 Disclaimer: The following story contains graphic, fictional descriptions of sexual acts between adults males. If this subject matter offends you, please do not read on. Comments appreciated. Send to bruno.boyd@yahoo.com What Brandon Needs by Bruno Boyd Part Twelve PRESENT DAY Mike walked into the bar and felt a strong blast of cold air from the A/C unit above the door. It was a welcome relief on a hot, sticky July day. He looked around for a second, then heard Frank's boisterous laugh and spotted his friend sitting at the bar flirting with a cocktail waitress. "Bout time, buddy," Frank said. "I was about to give up on you. What took so long?" Mike pulled out a barstool and sat down. "Ah, the usual. Been a long fuckin' week, I'll say that." "I hear that, bud. Let's get a cold one goin' for you." Frank motioned for the bartender, pointed at his empty bottle, and raised two fingers. "What about you?" Mike asked. "How you been?" Frank took a sip of his beer and shrugged. "I'll tell you what, if we're bein' honest... I'm counting down the days, my man..." Mike looked at his friend and smiled. "Is that right?" "Hell yes. Look man, in less than a month you and I are gonna be free for the first time in 18 years! Think about it, Mike. We're both in-shape guys in our 40's. We still got a few good years left. Just picture all the pussy that's gonna be comin' our way now that we're both home alone." He nodded towards the waitress, as if providing an example. Both men laughed loudly, clinked their bottles together, and took a long sip. "But seriously, Frank, you ever think about just how much our lives are about to change?" Mike was sincere now, almost somber. Frank put his hand on Mike's shoulder. "Absolutely. But Mike, you and me have put in the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into bein' single dads. Now that our boys are going off to college, I say it's time to reward ourselves. Enjoy life a little." "You sayin' you're not gonna miss Max?" Mike asked. "I'll miss him alright. And I'm gonna miss all the money I'm sending up there with him, too!" Mike laughed again. He understood that sentiment well. "What about you and Brandon?" Frank asked. "Is he ready to hit the road?" "Well..." Mike hesitated. He was searching for the right words. "Kinda hard to tell. Kid's hardly talking to me these days." "See!" Frank jabbed his finger at Mike. "That's the shit I'm not gonna miss right there. Teenage bullshit..." Mike looked over each shoulder, then leaned in closer to Frank as if sharing a secret. "Yeah, but who would've thought you and me both would have the same kind of sons... you know? Speaking for myself, man it's been a strange year. Finding out all kinds of stuff I never knew about. Stuff about Brandon..." Mike stopped mid-sentence. He had to be careful what he said in public, or even with his best friend. Frank took Mike's lead and looked around as well before he spoke. "Here's the thing though, Mike," he said. "Haven't we always known about our boys? I mean really- when you think back on it... Haven't you always known about Brandon?" NINE YEARS EARLIER The old pickup truck pulled up to the front of the school where a lone boy sat on a bench reading a book. The driver reached across and opened the passenger side door for the boy. "Sorry I'm late, bud," Mike said. Brandon shrugged as he climbed up into the front seat and tossed his backpack at his feet. "It's okay, Dad. I don't mind waiting." It was after six o'clock and school had been out for hours. Mike had promised to pick the boy up earlier, but things were tough right now. He had to figure something out soon before he got in trouble with the teachers at the school. "How was your day at school?" Mike asked. "Didn't you have a big history presentation today?" "No," the boy whispered. "That was last week." He was staring out the window at the houses along the road. "Aw, jeez, Brandon. I'm sorry, son. Things have just been so outta whack lately. But you got a science fair coming up don't you?" Brandon smiled at his father. "Yeah, Dad. Maybe you can help me with that." When they got home, Brandon bounded up into the house while Mike checked the mailbox. More bills. They seemed never-ending these days. He thumbed through them as he walked into the house and sat at the dining room table. "FINAL NOTICE." The words seemed to scream from the letter just as they did each day. Pushing the letters aside, Mike thought for a moment, then called out. "Brandon! Come here a sec!" The boy rounded the corner sheepishly. He was wondering what sort of trouble he was in now. "Come here, son. I wanna talk for a minute." Mike brushed his hand through the boy's shaggy hair. "Listen, Brandon. I'm sorry things have been so crazy lately. You know it's hard right now with just the two of us, but I want you to know something, okay? Things are gonna get better real soon. I just need a little time with the new company and all, but once we get a little money you and me are going on a vacation. How 'bout that?" Brandon smiled at his father and nodded yes. The man reached out and pulled his son in close for a tight hug. "I love you son, you know that right?" Brandon felt his dad's muscular arms squeezing around him. He felt safe like this. And there was another feeling the boy couldn't quite explain. There was something about being pressed up close against this man's body, and taking in his scent, that made the boy feel tingly and excited. He smiled and closed his eyes. "Yeah, Dad. I do." PRESENT DAY For Brandon, it had been an especially long summer. The tension that descended between him and his father that last week of school had only grown worse as the days progressed. In an effort to escape the strain of life at home, Brandon had secured a part-time job at a local caf‚, helping to seat diners and clear tables. It was just a small thing, but gave him an excuse to get out of the house for several hours a week in the evenings. After the restaurant closed for the night, he usually went to Max's house to hang out for a few hours. Other nights he'd even sat in the park, pushing himself back and forth on a swing and contemplating his future. Anything to avoid going home. And when he did finally get home - usually well past midnight - the boy carefully opened the back door and tiptoed down the hall to keep from waking his father. Of course Mike was always awake, listening for that sound of the door closing ever so softly. Only then, when he knew Brandon was home safe, could he close his eyes for the night. For his part, Mike tried to move forward as though nothing had happened. As though he had simply rewound the tape to where they were six months ago: just a typical single dad doing his best to raise his son. On those rare nights where Brandon was actually at home, Mike tried awkwardly to engage the boy by offering what he thought were the boy's favorite things. "How about we stay in and order pizza and watch TV?" Or "What do you say we go to the movies later, just you and me?" Or "Wanna show me how to play one of those video games?" But Brandon didn't bite, ever. He could barely look his dad in the eyes after all that happened between them, much less muster the energy to fake having fun. Mike knew that summer was fading fast and in just a few weeks his only son would be moving away to college. Brandon would be on the other side of the state, a couple hundred miles away. But the emotional distance that now separated them was at least as painful as the physical one to come. But, on this night Mike was particularly worried. It was almost 3:00 in the morning, and there was no sign of Brandon. This had never happened before. Mike paced in the kitchen shouting into his phone. "Brandon this is your father again. You need to either call or text me NOW! Enough is enough. I expect you to get home immediately..." He checked his texts again. He had started blasting them out around 1AM, simple at first: -"Hey, when you coming home?" Around 2AM, he'd kicked it up a notch: "Brandon get your ass home right now." Finally, he'd reach the alarm stage: calling and leaving stern voice messages. Just as he considered his next step, he heard the door clumsily unlock and Brandon stumbled in. "Where the fuck have you been?" Mike asked from across the room. Brandon managed a shrug and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. Mike walked quickly across the room and jabbed his finger in the boy's face. "You know goddamn well that you're supposed to call or text when you're gonna be fuckin' late!" The boy rolled his eyes. "Ummm, whatever..." As he turned to walk away, his dad grabbed him by the arm. Mike jerked Brandon like a rag doll, pulling him in for a closer inspection. The boy was disheveled with glassy eyes and he reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. "You're drunk, aren't you? Where the fuck have you been, Brandon?" Breaking free of his father's grip, the boy wobbled backwards a few steps, almost falling before catching himself on a chair. "So what?" Brandon muttered. "I just went to a party is all. Why do you care anyway?" This was a flippant tone Mike had never heard his son use before, and it sent his temper flaring. He approached Brandon again and leaned in close. "I give you a lot of freedom boy, but just remember whose house you're livin' in. You're not gonna fuckin' disrespect me, you understand?!" he barked. SEVEN YEARS EARLIER Mike quietly pushed open the door to Brandon's room and poked his head inside. His son was laying on his stomach on the bed reading a book. "Whatcha doin', Brandon?" The boy was fully engrossed in the fantasy world of witches and wizards, so this interruption startled him a bit, so much so that he dropped the book as he looked up. "You scared me, Dad!" Mike chuckled a bit. "Sorry, boy. Didn't realize you were off on another planet again." He crossed the room and turned a chair around, sitting backwards and facing the boy. "Listen, I wanna talk to you for a sec," Mike continued. "I gotta go to a big work dinner tonight, so I'm gonna drop you off at Max's house in a little bit, OK?" To Mike's surprise, Brandon looked a little downcast. "Aw, again Dad?" the boy asked. "What's the matter with that? I thought you liked Max? You boys hang out all the time and Frank's being real nice lettin' you stay over there." Brandon pushed himself up and sat on the bed with his legs crossed. "No, it's fine," he said. "It's just that I thought WE were gonna do something this weekend. You promised you'd take me to the movies." The boy was right and Mike knew it. "I know, son. But listen- things are goin' really well at work right now, and if I get this new contract, we can go to the movies as much as you want. In fact, we'll go tomorrow, OK?" "Sure, Dad... Good luck tonight." Mike walked back down the hall to his own bedroom. He pulled off his shirt and slid down his shorts, tossing them both on the bed. In the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror in his underwear and examined his reflection. He was getting older, sure, but still it wasn't half bad. At 33, he looked better than he did at 20. He turned the faucet on and as he waited for the water to warm up he peeled off his briefs. He lathered his face in shaving cream and ran the razor under the now-scalding water. Taking long strokes on his jawline, he carefully shaved the considerable stubble that grew in after only a day. Once he was finished, he took a towel and wiped his face clean. He looked good, he had to admit. He even flexed a little bit. But suddenly, something in the mirror caught his attention. There behind him, peering through the crack in the door was a pair of eyes. Mike quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed the door open. Brandon had been in such a trance that he was genuinely surprised to have been caught. "Jesus, Brandon!" Mike shouted. "What the hell are you doin'?!" The boy fumbled for words as his embarrassment only increased. "I was just wondering... what time we're leaving," he stammered. Almost immediately, Mike saw it. Right there, tenting in the front of his shorts, Brandon was sporting an erection. The boy quickly - and awkwardly - tried to conceal his boner with both hands. For a few seconds Mike was speechless. "Ummm... in thirty minutes," he said. "Be ready and waiting at the door." The boy started to scamper away quickly when Mike called out. "Brandon, c'mere a sec." "Yeah, Dad?" the boy asked. Mike rubbed his clean-shaven chin as he considered what he wanted to say. "Brandon... how long had you been watching me just now?" "Not long, Dad. I promise..." Brandon's face was turning beet red. "But, why were you watching anyway, son? You know you're not supposed to spy on people like that." Brandon bit his lip as he struggled not to cry. "I don't know Dad, I just... wanted to watch." Mike rubbed his eyebrows and considered the situation for a moment. "Well, make sure it doesn't happen again. You don't wanna give somebody the wrong idea. You understand, son?" "Yes, sir," Brandon replied sheepishly. "Thirty minutes- be ready." PRESENT DAY "You're not gonna fuckin' disrespect me, you understand?" Mike was shouting now, his voice booming in his son's face. For a moment there was silence. Brandon swayed drunkenly from side to side. He seemed to be thinking about what to say and how much he could get away with. And then he said it... "Fuck you." It was then that Mike did something that he'd never done. Something he thought he would never do. He slapped Brandon hard across the face. It was an immediate, spontaneous reaction that knocked the boy off balance. Mike instantly regretted the move, even if he didn't show it. Brandon held his hand to his reddened cheek and glared at his father in disbelief. Tears welled in his eyes. "Not another word, Brandon," Mike continued. "Get your ass to your room, now. We'll talk about this in the morning." The boy stumbled down the hall and Mike heard the loud bang of the door slamming. Mike turned out the lights and went to his room. His heart was pumping with rage as he undressed and climbed into bed. After a few minutes, he calmed down but realized he wouldn't be able to sleep. A half hour later Mike quietly opened the door to Brandon's room. He was suddenly glad he'd never allowed his son to have a lock on the door. It was dark, but he could see the boy laying on top of his bed, still fully clothed, sobbing. Mike crossed the room and stood over the bed. He was wearing only his underwear and his muscular frame was illuminated even in the faint moonlight through the window. "Go away!!" Brandon screamed. Mike leaned down to speak. "Brandon... I wanna talk..." The boy looked up at his father, his face red and wet with tears. "Just leave me alone! Haven't you done enough already?" As he sobbed he curled into the fetal position on the bed. Mike gently crawled on the bed next to the boy. It was a much smaller bed than his own, so he struggled to fit. "No! Go away!" Brandon shouted. Mike wrapped an arm around the boy's slim torso and pulled him close. Brandon tried weakly to wriggle away, but his father was too strong. He felt Mike's muscular arms envelop him in a bearhug of sorts. "Brandon... I'm sorry," Mike whispered. "You know I would never hurt you..." They lay like this on Brandon's bed for a few minutes as the boy's sobs subsided. Finally, Mike turned the boy over and let him rest his head on his beefy pec. Nothing more needed to be said. They fell asleep like this. FIVE YEARS EARLIER Brandon sat on the floor in front of the TV playing his favorite video game. "Alright Brandon," Mike said. "You can play for five more minutes but then I want you doing your homework. Understood?" "Uh huh," the boy replied, his eyes fixed to the screen. "Brandon, I mean it. You're a teenager now. I shouldn't have to tell you twice." Mike was exhausted. It had been another 12-hour work day and he still had plenty to do before the night was over. He looked around the kitchen at the piles of dishes in the sink and empty food containers on the countertop. Normally he would enlist Brandon in helping clean up, but tonight he gave the kid a break. Once he'd cleared the dishes and popped a frozen pizza in the oven, Mike grabbed the laundry basket and headed down the hall. He flipped on the light in Brandon's room and groaned. "Jesus, looks like a tornado came through," he whispered to himself. Clothes were strewn across the floor, mixed together randomly with books and scraps of paper. Mike picked through the mess for dirty clothes. Just as he thought he was finished gathering everything, Mike noticed more stuff hiding under the bed. He got on his hands and knees and peered under the bed. There were more toys and a few pieces of clothing, which he pulled out and tossed in the basket in one heap. Something caught his eye. There, on the top of the pile, was a pair of Mike's own underwear. It was an old pair of white briefs with holes in them. Mike rubbed his fingers on his forehead. This didn't make any sense. How in the hell did a pair of his old underwear get under Brandon's bed? As he passed the living room with the basket of clothes, Mike stopped. "Brandon, listen, I need to ask you a question." The boy didn't take his eyes off the video game. "Yeah, Dad?" "I was just in your room, and I need to ask you something..." "Ask me what?" The boy muttered. Mike watched the boy playing his game, light flashing on his face. Brandon had been through so much the last few years, he thought. So much loss, so much chaos. This boy was his rock, he realized. Brandon was the one thing that kept him going day in and day out. The boy paused the game and looked at this father. "Yeah, Dad? What were you going to ask?" Mike smiled. "I was gonna ask when you plan to start keeping that pig sty halfway clean?" After he had loaded the rest of the clothes in the washing machine, Mike walked to the boy's bedroom again and tossed the underwear back under the bed. PRESENT DAY In the morning, Mike carefully lifted Brandon's head off his chest, slid out of bed, and pulled the covers over his son. He would let the boy sleep a few more hours- after all, it had been a rough night. He walked to the kitchen and switched on the coffeepot. His phone buzzed on the kitchen table- a new text message from Frank. "Wanna watch the baseball game this afternoon?" it read. "Not today. Too much goin on," Mike replied. He thought for a minute and sent another message: "You were right about Brandon... I always knew." Mike went to his bedroom and quickly slipped on an old pair of cotton shorts and running shoes. He needed to get of the house and get his mind off things the only way he knew how- by working up a sweat. He wasn't much of a runner these days; too much muscle and too much age was catching up to him. But he took off in the summer heat with the stamina of a man much younger than himself. His beefy pecs glistened in the sun and bounced under each step as he jogged through the neighborhood. In the local park, a group of housewives stopped and stared hungrily as he passed by. The path Mike took was a good three or four miles, and he found himself back at his driveway in less than half an hour. Inside the house, Mike glanced down the hall and listened carefully. Not a sound came from Brandon's room, and in a way, Mike was relieved. He made his way to his bathroom, grabbed a towel, and wiped the sweat from his face. As he turned towards the shower, Mike was startled to see his son standing in the doorway, eyes downcast. "Brandon...How you feelin'?" Mike asked. "Can't be too good after last night." Brandon's voice cracked as he tried to speak. "About that, Dad... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted last night." "Brandon, I think we've both been through a lot and said and done things we're sorry about," Mike said as he leaned against the bathroom sink and crossed his arms. He wondered whether he should at least put on a shirt. The boy looked his father square in the eyes. "But Dad, I'm not sorry for what we've done..." Mike held up a finger, signaling for Brandon to stop speaking. "Brandon... wait..." He thought carefully about what he wanted to say. "Do you remember that time a few years ago when I caught you standing right there in the doorway? Watching me?" Brandon's face turned red with shame. "Yes..." "That wasn't the only time, was it son?" "No, sir..." "You've been watchin' me through that door for years haven't you?" "Yes, sir..." Brandon waited a minute for Mike to respond, but his father looked at a loss for words. "Dad... it's what I wanted this whole time... just... you..." "I'm your father," Mike stammered. "You know we're not supposed to..." Brandon interjected before Mike could continue. "But Dad, I don't care what other people say or what other people think. This feels... I don't know... right. And you know it does." For a minute they stood awkwardly, both waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally, Mike crossed the room. He pulled the boy in close, hugged him tight, and held Brandon's face against his sweaty, beefy pec. Gently, he stroked the boy's hair and kissed the top of his head. Then, he began to feel it- the boy's erection growing and pressing into his leg. "Brandon, come with me." Mike walked into the bedroom and sat at the end of his bed. He watched his son standing in the dim light, nervously awaiting his orders. "Brandon, take off your shirt." The boy did as he was told and peeled off his shirt. His slender torso was pale and smooth, so unlike the man before him. Mike nodded in the boy's direction. "Shorts too." As he pulled down his shorts and stood in his underwear, Brandon trembled with excitement. Mike scooted back and leaned against a pile of pillows at the head of the bed. He lifted his arm and placed it behind his head, exposing his hairy armpit. This was Brandon's favorite pose and his father knew it. "C'mere..." the man whispered. The boy climbed onto the bed next to his father, his eyes wide with anticipation. Slowly, Mike reached out and gently held the boy's face, pulling him closer. Brandon could smell his father's rich, familiar scent. "You wanna worship your dad, don't you boy?" he whispered, his voice deep and firm. "Mmmhmm," Brandon muttered. He was almost too excited to even form words. Mike ran his fingers through his son's hair, brushing the long mop to the side so he could clearly see his face. He was a beautiful boy, he thought. How had he not noticed this all along? "You need it don't you, son?" "Yes, Dad." Mike slowly pulled the boy's face down into his exposed armpit. Brandon squirmed and grunted into Mike's pit. "Breathe that in boy," Mike whispered. "That's what you like, huh? Your dad's sweaty pit?" As he took deep breaths of his father's ripe, damp pit, Brandon instinctively rubbed his rock-hard dick against the sheets. He began to take long laps with his tongue, savoring the taste of his father's sweat. This only intensified his already raging boner, which began to drip precum. After a few minutes of worshipping Mike's pits, Brandon worked his way to the man's beefy pecs. He kissed around each hairy mound of muscle and began to gently suckle on his father's nipples. Mike stroked his son's hair and whispered into his ear. "That's it boy, worship my body..." With his mouth firmly planted on Mike's pec, Brandon's hand worked its way down his dad's body, and he gripped the man's growing cock as it poked out the top of his briefs. He started to slowly stroke it through the man's underwear, and a stream of clear liquid formed on the head. Mike pulled Brandon off of his chest and together the two stood next to the bed. Without saying a word, Mike motioned for Brandon to get on his knees. The boy gazed up into his father's eyes, as if searching for direction and approval. "Go on, Brandon..." he whispered. The boy grasped his father's briefs and carefully pulled them down. As they slid down his waist and around his thick ass, Mike's dick sprung out and bounced half-erect in Brandon's face. The boy took his dad's dick in his small hands and began to slowly stroke. The droplet of liquid on the tip turned into a long rope of precum that Brandon slurped up. "Yeah... Go ahead and suck it boy," Mike directed. Gently, Brandon worked his lips around the growing cock, first taking in only the dickhead, then slowly working his way further down the shaft with each bob. He allowed his mouth and throat to get used to the assault it was about to receive. Mike could feel his cock begin to reach the back of the boy's throat and he gasped. "Ahhh fuck that feels good... Keep sucking, baby..." The man grabbed a handful of his son's hair and used it to control the boy's efforts to suck the now rockhard member. Just as it seemed the boy would make it all the way down the shaft, Mike pulled his dick out and slapped it back and forth across the boy's face, which was now coated with spit and precum. The boy licked greedily and started to beg. "Mmmm, please Dad... I want it..." Mike forcibly pumped his cock in and out of Brandon's lips. His balls, hairy and swollen, slapped against the Brandon's chin, where a long trail of spit now dangled. When he finally felt his cock reach the back of the boy's throat, Mike held his son firmly in place. "Breathe through your nose," he commanded. His nose buried in his father's pubic hair, Brandon did as he was told and suppressed his gag reflex. He could feel strings of precum dripping down his throat. Mike slowly counted to ten as he watched his son's face turn bright red. Finally he let go of the boy's hair and slipped his dick out. Brandon gasped for air but instantly fought to get the man's penis back in his mouth. "Make love to that dick, boy," Mike growled. "You're such a lucky boy, you know that?" "Uh huh," the boy replied, struggling to catch his breath. "I love it Dad..." Brandon continued bobbing his head on Mike's dick for several minutes, carefully drinking down the flow of precum. With his hands, he held onto his father's muscled ass cheeks, squeezing them as Mike fucked his face. The boy's fingers carefully found their way into Mike's deep, wet asscrack. "Yeah, boy... You like that big man ass, don't you?" Mike teased. Brandon couldn't speak with his mouth full of cock, but he managed to grunt eagerly: "Mmmhmm." "Yeah, I know what you like, boy," Mike continued. "Rub that crack good. Get your fingers wet with my ass sweat." Brandon squirmed as he worked his fingers deep into Mike's ass. He rubbed his middle finger on the man's hot, tight hole. "Mmmm yeah boy," Mike growled. "Let me see you smell those fingers now, boy." Letting his father's dick slip from his mouth, Brandon did as he was told and brought his fingers to his nose. The smell was rich and manly, and it made the boy's dick jump. "Lick 'em," Mike continued. With his eyes firmly locked on his dad's face, Brandon sucked on his fingers, tasting his father's ass sweat. He felt his dick jump and harden even more. Mike chuckled at the scene- his son savoring his body's scent and taste. He was going to give him more. He pulled Brandon up and pushed him back onto the bed. The boy lay naked, his dick rock hard with anticipation for what was to come. Mike climbed onto the bed, swung a leg over the boy's head and turned himself around. They were now in an almost 69 position and his beefy ass was squarely in the boy's face. From here, Mike could see Brandon's throbbing dick and the stream of precum leaking down the side of the boy's waist. Feeling the boy's breath on his bare ass, he reached back and held onto Brandon by the back of his head. "You wanna worship that big man ass, don't you boy?" Even in the dim light of the room, Brandon could still see the hairy trench of his father's ass glistening with sweat. Even more so, he was hit with the rich and manly scent he craved. "Yeah, Dad... please," the boy whimpered. Mike carefully lowered himself until he was sitting on Brandon's face, his massive ass smothering the boy. At the same time, he pulled Brandon in tight with his hand on the back of the boy's head. Brandon grunted with pleasure as his entire face was encased in his father's ass. He could feel his dick harden so much it almost hurt. Slowly, Mike began to rock his ass back and forth on the boy's face. "That's it, Brandon. Breathe it in good boy..." For a moment, Brandon thought he might pass out he was so overcome by the strong, manly scent that only comes from an alpha male. He knew he belonged here. "Eat that fuckin' man ass, boy," Mike directed. "You love that big muscle butt don't you, boy?" The boy lapped greedily at the thick tufts of hair poking out of Mike's deep asscrack. He felt his father pull him in tight, enabling his tongue to work inside the man's hot, tight hole. He began to whimper, and it became clear he was on the verge of a hands-free orgasm. Mike quickly lifted himself off Brandon's face and lay on the bed, watching as his son tried to catch his breath. It was time to try something new. "Turn over, Brandon," Mike whispered. Brandon quickly did as he was told and turned face down, his head now resting on a pillow. He instinctively began to gently thrust his hips. Mike scooted down the bed just enough to get a good view of the boy's butt. It was a creamy white, hairless, bubble ass. He rubbed the boy's smooth ass cheeks and gave them a loud, firm slap that caused Brandon to suddenly cry out. Using both hands he spread the boy's ass open, revealing a pink, virgin hole. It was as hot as any pussy Mike had seen over the years. He sucked the tip of his thumb and started to rub on the tight hole in a circular motion, working it out. The boy continued to squirm beneath him and pushed his ass upwards in response. Under normal circumstances, the idea of eating an ass, not mention a guy's ass, would have been repulsive to Mike. But this situation was anything but normal. Holding Brandon's cheeks open, Mike lowered his face into the boy's ass. He took a quick swipe along the crack, hesitantly tasting his son. It was a clean, sweet taste. It was boyish. It was Brandon. Something switched on inside Mike and he dove in, his tongue licking all the way from the back of Brandon's balls and up to his hole. In response, Brandon buried his face in the pillow and let out a deep moan. "Mmmmm, Dad... Yes!" When Brandon started to push back on his father's face, Mike looped his arms under the boy's legs and pulled the tight ass deeper onto his tongue. Mike paused his rim job to once again spread the boy's cheeks. The tight hole was now wet with saliva that dripped down Brandon's crack and onto his balls. Mike slapped the boy's ass again, this time even harder. "Yeah, boy! You like showing off that pussy, don't you?" Mike taunted. Brandon wriggled with pleasure, practically begging his father to continue working out his hole. Once again, Mike buried his face in his son's butt, this time working his tongue inside Brandon's hot hole. Brandon responded by pushing his ass back more onto his father's face. Mike's cock was now oozing precum onto the sheets and he became more aggressive, actually biting the boy's ass as he worked it out. It was too much for the boy, who could feel an orgasm rising in him. "Dad... I'm gonna cum soon..." Mike pulled his face out of his son's ass and slapped the cheeks hard one last time. "No fuckin' way you are," he growled. He reached under his son and grabbed the boy's balls - small, nearly hairless nuts - and squeezed them tight. Brandon howled as his premature orgasm was cut off. Even though he was in now in pain, he knew his father was doing the right thing. He trusted the man. But now the boy was desperate. There was only one thing left in this world that he craved. Thrusting his ass up in the air, Brandon began to beg. "Please, Dad... I want it..." Mike knew he had reached the point of no return. His mind and his body simply couldn't stop at this point. He collapsed on top of the boy, careful not to crush him with his full weight. His massive dick was now resting in the boy's wet asscrack. As he frotted against his son, another stream of precum spurted out. The aftermath of Mike's rimjob made the boy's crack wet and slippery, and combined with precum, it was almost like lube. His cockhead was now poking at the boy's still tight hole, and both gasped. Looking down, Mike couldn't see how a cock as big as his would possibly penetrate such a small hole. Brandon scooted to his hands and knees on the bed, his ass arched upwards and his pale cheeks parted. Mike hesitated. "Please Dad.... Please..." Brandon pleaded softly. Ever so carefully, Mike's cock began to enter the boy. At first, the man's cockhead was swallowed up, and the boy gasped. The two paused, giving the boy enough time to adjust and prepare for what was to come. "You alright, boy?" Mike asked. "Yeah, Dad," the boy whimpered. "Keep going..." Mike gripped Brandon's small hips tighter and lifted himself up, carefully positioning his dick for its entry. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself further inside his son. Brandon's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out another long moan. Mike watched as his cock slowly disappeared into the boy's tight hole. When it was about halfway inside, he had to stop again. He had never felt anything so tight in his life, and he thought for sure he would injure the boy. "You still ok?" "Mmmm yes," Brandon whispered. "Fuck me, Daddy... Please..." With that final plea, Mike steadied himself further and began to gently push the rest of his cock inside Brandon's expanding hole. It was as though the tightness of Brandon's hole suddenly gave way, and Mike's massive dick was suddenly fully inside the boy. The man felt his balls now resting against the boy's skin. For a moment, they held this position; a father deep inside his own son. There was no turning back now. Gently, Mike began to slide his cock back out, and then with one strong thrust, rammed it back inside his son. Brandon's bubble ass bounced in response and the boy yelped. "Mmmmm, yeah Dad... fuck me..." he begged Mike held onto the boy's small waist for support and assaulted Brandon's hole. As he rammed deeper into the boy's insides, he became lost in a sensory overload of ecstasy. Brandon grunted face-first into a pillow while his father relentlessly pounded his hole. Never in his eighteen years of life had he felt anything as fulfilling as this. His own dick bounced up and down at each thrust of Mike's cock, and he could feel his cum building up deep in his balls. Just as he thought he would cum, Mike reached around and grabbed his dick, once again squeezing his balls and preventing a sudden ejaculation. "Not yet, boy..." Mike growled. Brandon could barely respond verbally beyond muttering a few soft pleas. "Yes Dad... yes... yes... fuck me...." Mike suddenly pulled out. He landed several hard smacks with his hand across the boy's now- reddening butt, before slamming himself back into the still-tight hole. Brandon pushed his ass up further, arching his back and giving his dad easier access. Mike began a savage final assault on the boy. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room. "Fuck yeah, Brandon! You love that fuckin' dick, don't you boy?" Without warning, Brandon started to cry. Mike was surprised, but he knew they weren't tears of pain. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the boys and dads who would never know this moment, who would never understand what it meant. He felt it happening. His balls tightened up. His entire body stiffened. He slammed hard one final time into his son. "Yeah, Dad! I want your cum... Please..." Brandon whimpered. Mike let out a guttural sound the likes of which he'd never made before. It was deep and primal and pure ecstasy. "Nnnnnghhhh... FUCKKK!!!" The man released an explosion of cum into his son. It shot hard and deep inside Brandon, coating his insides with thick jizz. After this initial jism, Mike tried to hold it, his climax continuing to build up. His body shook violently as his orgasm washed over him in waves. Another round of cum pumped out and injected Brandon's hole. At almost the same time, Brandon shot out a rope of cum across the sheets in a powerful, hands- free ejaculation. Several more thick globs followed and landed across the headboard. The boy's orgasm caused his hole to spasm and milk even more of the man's cock. Mike collapsed on top of Brandon, their sweaty bodies still heaving as they tried to catch their breath. He wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging him tight. After a couple of minutes, he slowly rolled onto his side, keeping his still-hard member inside Brandon as they settled into a spooning position. Exhausted, they fell asleep like this. FOUR WEEKS LATER Mike parked his truck in the loading zone in front of the dormitory and turned off the engine. "Well, we're here," he said. He looked over at Brandon, who sat silently in the passenger seat. It had been a long drive across the state, so they'd gotten an early start and from the looks of it, so had everyone else. All around them parents and their kids were scurrying back and forth carrying boxes and suitcases and random belongings like lampshades and basketballs. A few minutes later the two found themselves walking down a crowded hallway, searching for Brandon's room. "741-A. This is the room," Mike said. It was a typical, small dorm room with a bunkbed and a window overlooking a central courtyard. Mike tossed a suitcase aside and smiled at Brandon. "Looks like we're first, bud. You know what that means?" Brandon looked around the room and tried to find anything good about it. "What?" he asked. Mike chuckled. "You get to pick which bed you want. Now if I were you I'd pick the bottom bunk. Don't wanna risk rolling out of bed after a night of drinking. Not that I'm sayin' you can drink, but just in case... you know... When's your roomie get here anyway?" "Not till tomorrow," Brandon replied quietly. As Mike pulled the blinds up on the window, the boy sat on the bare mattress on the bottom bunk and considered the room. "What, you don't like it?" Mike asked. Brandon shrugged. "Just different, is all. I guess I didn't expect it to be so... small." "Look at this way son. You're gonna be so busy with school and god-knows-what that you're probably only gonna be sleeping in here anyway. Let's go unload the rest of your stuff." The two spent the next couple of hours unpacking Brandon's belongings and getting settled in. They filled the drawers with clothes and hung the rest in the tiny closet. After setting up a small desk next to the window, they installed Brandon's computer equipment. They went down the hall and inspected the communal bathroom. "Yeah, that'll take some adjusting to," Mike joked. Finally, they unloaded the last of the boy's things. It was getting dark outside and Mike had a long drive ahead of him. The two stood alone in Brandon's little room, and an awkward silence filled the air. "Alright, son, it's time for me to take off," Mike said. "You know I'm not good at this part, so no sense in draggin' it out, right?" "Right, Dad." "C'mere, son." Mike grabbed the boy and pulled him close for a strong bearhug. Brandon felt tears starting to well up in his eyes, and he thought about begging his father not to leave. But before he could, Mike spoke again. "Listen, Brandon. You've made me very proud, son. Just by being here, you've achieved what I never could. Do the right thing. Stay focused on your studies. And keep on makin' your old man proud, you hear me?" With his face pressed firmly against his father's chest, Brandon nodded. "Yes, sir," he whispered. "I love you, Brandon." The boy felt his father kiss the top of his head, then gently let go of him. Mike opened the door, then turned back as though he remembered something. "One more thing son," he said. "There's a bag on the table that's got a couple of snacks and a few things to help you get by this week. I'll call you tomorrow." "OK, Dad." The door closed and Brandon stood alone in his room. After a few minutes, he went for a walk around the sprawling campus. He found out where his classes were and spotted the fast-food hangouts in the commons area. He even made some new friends in a pair of girls moving into the room next door. That night as he prepared for bed, Brandon remembered the care package his father had left behind. It was a brown paper bag folded neatly closed. Inside, Brandon found a sandwich wrapped in plastic, a small bag of chips, and a few candy bars. As he emptied the contents onto the desk, the boy noticed another plastic zipper bag on the bottom. He pulled it out and inspected it, his eyes widening. A note was taped to the outside. It read: "Just a little something to help you adjust. Love, Dad." Inside the sealed bag was a pair of white briefs, riddled with holes and worn out from years of wear. Brandon slept good that night. THE END