⚣Leonidas⚣

you don't remember it happening at all because he hypnotized you to forget, that way he can show it to you all over again. it's your first time having sex with your dad and you don't remember a thing about it, only that there's a familiar ache from last night you couldn't name

then you get shown it happening from a completely different perspective and dad gets to point out all the cute faces you're making for him eventually he'll have an entire shelf dedicated to the movies you make every week, but you won't care to ask about them since they're unlabelled and displayed in such a way one would only give them a cursory glance

pop them in the dvd player though and you get to see hours of your life forgotten

every single time it's the best thing you could possibly feel in the moment- your body has grown so used to his treatment of you that it's hard not to respond, to fall in line with his commands, yet every time it also feels like your first time.

finally, you get to have sex with the man you love!

it's probably so amusing to him, living with a son he's fucked hundreds of times. You still think he has no clue about how you feel

he loves taking advantage like that. asking if you want to try something fun with dad and seeing that familiar embarrassment give way to a whore back in his bed

“Jesus, Dad,” my son ripped the drawing out of my hands, stuffing it back into the portfolio. “Why are you going through my things?”

“You left your portfolio on the kitchen table,” I argued. “You used to love showing me your art work. Was that illustration for a class?”

“Yeah, it was an assignment for my advanced graphic arts class, if you must know.”

“What was the assignment? Softcore gay pornography?” I joked. 

“No,” Zach snapped. “The professor said we were to explore hidden desires.”

“So you drew me propositioning you for gay sex at a gas station to represent your hidden desires?” I exclaimed. 

“No, Dad—that’s not—it’s not us—” 

“Bullshit,” I spat. “That’s my beard, and my hairy, muscular body, and my farmer’s tan, and the green, John Deere ball cap that I always wear. And that’s your spiky ginger hair, and your fair skin, and your favorite shirt, and—”

“Okay—STOP,” Zach shouted. “I might have modeled the two figures after us, alright?”

“Then why am I leaning against you, my shorts partially undone, my bulge inches from yours, as I pump gas into a car—in a manner that strongly suggests putting my cock in you, pumping my load into you?” I demanded. 

“That’s not—,” he began before switching gears and screaming, “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Zach ran upstairs and slammed his bedroom door, abandoning the portfolio on the table. I opened it once more, shocked to find a whole series of suggestive illustrations depicting us. 

One had us playing with a toy train set, like Zach had as a kid. I was leaning up against him, the controller in my hand as an absurdly phallic train prepared to enter a tunnel that appeared to be way too narrow for it.

In another illustration, we were eating in a restaurant, our bodies pressed close together. I was holding a giant, curved sausage on a fork, Zach’s mouth open comically wide as he gleefully prepared to consume it. 

“I think we need to talk,” I announced softly, opening the door to Zach’s room. He was curled up on his bed, his head buried in a pillow. “What’s going on with you?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Zach began, “having a father like you. All my friends think you’re hot as fuck—the beard, the muscles, the hairy chest, your big dick.”

“Wait—how do you know what my dick—?”

“Oh, please,” Zach groaned. “How many times have I seen that big monster when you’re getting out of the shower, or when pissing up against a tree when we go hiking? I know you’re hung like fuck.”

“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ve got a big one. But I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You don’t get it,” Zach snapped. “I’ll never know what that’s like. What it feels like to—”

“Jesus,” I exhaled, cutting him off. “I know what this is about. I was warned this could happen.”

“Warned?” Zach inquired, his head cocked.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I never told you this, but I saw a therapist when you first came out to your mom and me.”

“A shrink?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I was having a hard time processing your sexuality. He got me through it, but he also warned me that it was normal for a young guy like you to develop feelings for your father—kind of like an Oedipal thing, he said.”

“Is—is there like a treatment or something?” Zach asked, obviously confirming my suspicions. “Something I could do?”

“Well—yeah,” I affirmed. “The shrink said these kind of feelings date back to antiquity, and that the Greeks normalized the behavior, encouraging young men to explore with their fathers when reaching maturity. The idea is that once the young man gets past his obsession with his father, he can move on to normal, healthy relationships with others.”

“So you should fuck me?” Zach surmised boldly.

“The fuck?” I gasped. “I’m not gonna fuck you. My cock made you—it’s not going inside you.”

“But the shrink—he told you that it was healthy for me to explore with you,” Zach countered.

“Yes—but I thought maybe that meant I’d just let you jack me off or something,” I clarified. “I’m not gonna fuck you.”

“Please, Dad,” my son begged. “Jacking you, or even sucking you off, isn’t going to hack it. I’m obsessed with getting fucked by you. I think about it all the time. Taking your big dick is the only thing that’s going to let me get past all this—like the shrink said.”

“Christ,” I exhaled. “If we do this—if I fuck you—it has got to be transactional. No kissing. No foreplay. No romantic touching. You just bend over and—wham, bam, done—like when I used to fuck dudes in the army.”

“Wait—you fucked dudes when you were in the army?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It was the army. Almost every soldier will fuck some random dude at some point when he just needs to—”

But then I stopped myself. “Look, that’s a story for another time. We’re talking about you now. If you want me to fuck you, it’s gotta be the equivalent of me just rubbing one out inside your ass. You get me?”

“I’m game,” Zach smiled broadly, stripping off his clothes. “There’s lube in my drawer,” he directed. “I’m gonna need it.”

“Is this my cock ring?” I asked, pulling it out of the drawer along with the lube. “I’ve been looking for it. Did you swipe it?”

“Sorry, Dad,” Zach shrugged. “I like to jack off with it, knowing it’s been on your cock, even though the XXL size is way too big for me.”

“Keep it,” I insisted, tossing it back in the drawer. “It’s yours now.”

“Jesus,” Zach gasped as I pulled down my shorts, my nine-incher going to full mast instantly, its girth expanding rapidly. “I’ve never seen you hard. It’s even bigger than I imagined.”

Zach reached for my big cock, attempting to wrap his fist around it. But I wasn’t having it.

“No foreplay,” I warned him, batting his hand away. “Now bend over the edge of your bed and let’s get this over with.”

Obediently, Zach presented his ass to me, his pink, puckered hole rimmed with soft, ginger fur. In some ways, it looked a lot like his mother’s pussy, which helped to steel my resolve. Slathering my dick with lube, I stepped up to the plate, and shoved my big one inside my son.

“FUUUCK,” Zach cried out. “Oh my god—it hurts so bad.”

“Please tell me I didn’t just pop your cherry?” I inquired, disturbed by the idea of taking my son’s virginity.

“No—Trip Callahan was the first to deflower me,” Zach admitted through gritted teeth. 

“That little twerp from your scouting troop?” I laughed, holding still inside him. “I always wondered what was going on in those tents late at night.”

“Look, less talking and more fucking,” Zach chastised me, his sphincter finally giving up the initial death grip it had on my cock. “I’m ready to be fucked.”

Needing no further invitation, I dug my hands into Zach’s shoulders and unleashed a violent assault on his cunt. Balls deep, I pounded him relentlessly, his sphincter finally relenting to my assault.

“Fuck—Fuck—Fuck,” Zach screamed repeatedly, his face pressed into the mattress, his hands gripping the bedspread. “It hurts so good—so fucking good.”

It was feeling pretty damn good for me, too. It had been months since my wife had spread her legs for me. And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that ass feels way better than pussy—a fact I learned in my army days.

It was a pleasure to have my big cock in a warm, wet hole—one that I could go as deep as I pleased. And the thought of dumping my load into that warm hole, instead of watching as it circled down the shower drain, was a huge bonus.

“Mmm yeah,” Zach moaned. “That’s it—fuck me harder—fuck me harder, Daddy.”

Zach hadn’t called me ‘Daddy’ since he was ten years old, transitioning to the more masculine ‘Dad’ prior to middle school. But hearing him call me ‘Daddy’ again, with my cock buried deep inside him, was an unexpected turn on.  

“Your big cock feels so good inside me, Daddy,” he exclaimed as I jackhammered the shit out of him. “I want your cum so bad.”

“Yeah—you want me to breed you?” I taunted. “You want to feel Daddy shooting his warm load up your ass?”

“Yes, Daddy, breed me,” Zach begged. 

The dirty talk got me there, my balls throbbing, the cum rising in my swelling shaft. I couldn’t hold back. “You ready for it?” I barked urgently. “You ready for my cum? OH FUCK—I’m almost there—JESUS CHRIST—I’m gonna—I’m gonna—FUCK—FUCK.”

“I can feel you cumming,” Zach gasped as my cock unloaded inside him, spewing what felt like a gallon of cum into his depths, my body convulsing in synchronization with my cock. I held still, my dick buried deep inside my son, my DNA reuniting with its progeny. 

“Fuck, I needed that,” I exhaled pulling out of Zach, my load gushing from his wrecked hole as we both collapsed upon the bed. I pulled him into my arms, holding him like I used to when he was scared and couldn’t sleep at night. 

“Thank you, Dad,” Zach looked up at me, gratitude in his eyes. “I know that I’m, like, supposed to be over you and all now—but do you think we can do it again sometime? I really loved taking your big dick. We could be fuck buds—just no strings fun together.”

“I dunno—we’ll have to see,” I lied with my best poker face. The truth was that I hadn’t had an orgasm that incredible in years. And it wasn’t like my wife was all that interested in riding my big cock anymore. Having an easy hole in the house would be a hard offer to refuse.

“I can’t believe you left that gay illustration out for me to find,” I laughed, trying to change the subject.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Zach laughed.

“Yeah, well I made up that shit about the therapist,” I confessed with a devious smile. “What reputable shrink is gonna tell a guy to fuck his own son?”

Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.

“I don’t want to get up, you get in.”

With that he pulled me into his hairy chest and hugged me.  He continued to spoon with me like that for a few minutes.  He started to massage the back my neck with his beard.

What are you doing dad?

“Oh nothing boy, we should get up.”

I’d rather lay here with you for awhile longer.

“Really?”

He tightened his embrace and tested the waters by kissing me first on my shoulders and then moving on to my neck.  I didn’t put up any roadblocks and soon after his lips were touching mine.  He let himself go and kissed me deeply.  Our tongues danced with each other.  I could feel him shimmy out of his shorts and press his hard cock into my back.

“I hope you realize what you started boy.”

I think I do sir.

He would slowly hump the bed and look at me in just such a way.

“Fuck, Dad! Your cock feels so good,” my son moaned.

“This is what you wanted, huh? Your own father’s cock stretching you out. Jesus, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I said as I felt my dick sliding in and out of my son.

Mr. Federer was the hottest teacher at my high school, and the youngest at just 23 years old. His Abercrombie good looks, athletic body, scruffy beard, stormy eyes, and killer smile made him popular with every girl in the school—and us gay guys, too. The icing on the cake was that he was allegedly hung like fuck. 

He was called Federer the Predator behind his back, due to rumors of frequent hookups with female students.

The age of consent in the state was 16, and Mr. Federer exploited it. Absent a complaint to the school board, which never happened, our school became his own private cherry-picking farm. 

The tale of him and three cheerleaders in the faculty lounge after hours was legendary. As was the one about him and the captain of the girls lacrosse team in the girls locker room. And when student body president Mandy Shields had to be out of school for several months without explanation, everyone suspected Mr. Federer was the baby daddy. 

Of course, none of it could be proven, it was all just hearsay. The school administration was powerless to do anything about Mr. Federer because no female student ever complained about him. And why would they? His big cock was a mountain that every girl in school wanted to climb. Myself, included. 

My only issue with Mr. Federer was that he didn’t give gay guys like me so much as a glance. I wanted my fair chance with his big cock, too. Straight guys can be so unfair at times. 

My other issue with Mr. Federer was that I was flunking his World History class. Not only did it mean I wouldn’t graduate, I would also have to attend summer school if I wanted my diploma. 

But I had a plan, a bit of a bargain that I hoped to strike with Mr. Federer. If he gave me a passing grade—all I needed was a D in his class—I would suck his big dick. 

I know what you’re thinking—no straight guy is going to give up his cock to a gay dude that easily. But Federer the Predator was no average straight guy. He was a male whore who lived for sex, wanting to get his big dick in a warm hole as often as possible. It doesn’t take much to lure a guy like him to the dark side. 

And so I approached Mr. Federer after school, just as he was starting to erase his whiteboard, preparing to leave for the day. He gave me an exasperated look as I entered his classroom and closed the door behind me.

“Braxton, if you’re here to complain about your grade,” he sneered, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But I’m at risk of not graduating if you don’t pass me,” I explained. “Can’t you give me some extra credit?”

“Read your syllabus,” he snapped. “I don’t give out extra credit.”

“What if—what if I sucked your dick?” I offered, seeing no need to beat around the bush.

“Suck my dick?” he gasped, taken aback.

“Yeah,” I doubled down. “The rumor around school is that you have no problem having sex with students—female students, that is.”

“Is that what you’ve heard?” he laughed, a devious look upon his face. “Well I’ve heard rumors about you, too, Braxton.”

“I doubt—“

“Coach Nichols told me he busted you doing a bit of sword swallowing under the bleachers during lunch,” Mr. Federer accused. “He apparently witnessed you taking Tayvon Washington’s big one to the balls.”

“Yeah, I took Tayvon to the balls,” I admitted. “His cock is the size of my arm.”

“Impressive,” Mr. Federer replied, an eyebrow raised. “I must say I’m intrigued by your—uh—skill.”

“Let me suck you,” I begged. “If you’ll just—“

“Shut the fuck up and lock that door,” he cut me off, unzipping his fly. “We need to make this quick. We’ve got maybe ten minutes before the janitor comes through here to collect trash.”

Obediently, I raced to the door and locked the deadbolt. Turning around, my jaw nearly dropped as I witnessed Mr. Federer stripping off his clothes, perching himself at the edge of his desk, his naked body on full display, his big cock hanging between his legs. Jesus, he was fucking hot.

“Like what you see?” he taunted, gripping his hard nine-incher in one fist, slapping it against his open palm. “I’ve got a three-day load in these balls for you.”

Like a famished cocksucker, I dropped to my knees before Mr. Federer. With my hands resting on his knees, I went in for the kill. 

“Oh my god,” he marveled, staring down at his big cock as it disappeared down my throat, his balls mashed against my chin. “The rumors about you are true.”

“Fuck, you’ve got a big one,” I exclaimed, coming up for air, a strand of saliva stringing from my lips to his cock. 

“Glad you like it,” he winked, slapping it against my cheek. “Now suck this big fuckin’ dick.”

Locking my lips around his girthy shaft, I began to bob up and down on that big tool, my tongue coating every inch, balls to tip, as Mr. Federer moaned in response. His hands moved to the back of my head, caressing my hair at the nape of my neck. 

“Fuuuuck, you can suck a dick,” he exhaled. “Ain’t no bitch has ever sucked me this good.”

I was just getting started. Reaching around and gripping his meaty ass in my hands, I pulled him into me, joining us together like Siamese twins connected at his cock. Sucking him ravenously, his fat cock head abused my tonsils, his balls slapped my chin. My neck worked like a piston, rapidly moving up and down his shaft, working out that nut, milking his balls dry. 

“How the fuck are you doing that?” he marveled as I went to town on that big cock, my mouth transforming into the best pussy he’d ever had. Removing my hands from his ass, I massaged his balls as he leaned back further on the desk, his ass slightly raised, his furry hole exposed. 

And then I went for it. Coming up for a quick breath, I licked my index finger and shoved it up his ass. His legs went stiff, reacting to the sudden invasion, but he didn’t stop me. He welcomed the ass play like the dirty straight boy I suspected him to be. Returning to his cock, I sucked him while probing for his prostate.

“HOLY FUCK,” he gasped, when I found that knobby cum button buried inside him. With the same pace, I continued to suck him as I applied steady, rhythmic pressure to his prostate. In response, his cock grew impossibly hard—ready to cut diamonds. 

“Fuuuck,” he moaned while I sucked his big dick and finger fucked his furry hole simultaneously. His balls began to tighten, hugging his body. The dam was about to burst.

“Oh SHIT—If you keep doing that,” he cried, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna—OH FUCK—YEAH—SHIT.”

A massive load filled my mouth as his cock throbbed over and over again, his sphincter gripping my finger in perfect synch with his pulsing cock. I strained to swallow all of his load, that creamy elixir coating my tongue, flying down my throat. Mr. Federer grabbed my head, holding on for dear life as his body convulsed in euphoric ecstasy.

When the throbbing ceased, when his balls were emptied, I released Mr. Federer’s cock, extracting my finger from his ass at the same time. He fell back on the desk, bracing himself just before his head smacked against the hard surface.

“Jesus Christ, you can suck a dick,” he exhaled, finally catching his breath. Sitting up, he smiled at me, his cum and saliva smeared across my mouth and chin. “That was not only the best dick suck I’ve ever had—it was quite possible the best orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Fuck, dude.”

“Thanks,” I smiled bashfully. “I’m glad you liked it. Does this mean you’ll give me a passing grade in your class?”

Mr. Federer sat upright, his hairy legs hanging off the edge of the desk, a drop of cum dangling from his spent cock. Cocking his head, he looked at me quizzically.

“I never said I’d pass you, Braxton,” he finally spoke. 

“But—but I just sucked you off,” I protested. 

“So what?” he laughed. “You sucked me off because you wanted this big cock—wanted to suck down my load. You got what you came for.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “But I also sucked your dick so you’d give me a good grade.”

“I don’t give out good grades for sexual favors,” he smirked. “Shit, half the bitches in this school would have straight A’s if that was the case.”

“But if I don’t pass your class, I won’t graduate,” I pleaded. “I’m gonna have to go to summer school.”

“Fine by me,” Mr. Federer laughed. “I’m teaching summer school. And you’re the only student needing to repeat my World History class, so it’ll just be you and me all summer.”

“It will?”

“Yeah,” he smiled deviously. “So I’d suggest you invest in a good pair of knee pads. You’re gonna need them.”

“Dad, I’m really too old to get a bare-butt spankin’!”

* BOING!!! *