لبؤة

At first, I didn’t think much of it—just Dad getting back from the gym later than usual. But then came the laughter. Not just his deep, rumbling chuckle, but another voice—younger, lighter, the kind of laugh that carried an edge of flirtation. My fingers stilled over the screen as I listened to the two of them moving through the hallway, their footsteps heavy, their voices low but unmistakably intimate. A prickle of unease ran down my spine. Dad moved into my guest room eight months ago, after the divorce. In that time he had never brought people home.

But I had told him he should feel free to invite people over. He’d been so down after everything that had happened, especially the day he came to me to ask if he could crash at my place for a while. I wanted him to make friends and maybe even date again. It was weird, though, thinking about my dad’s personal life.

I sat up straighter as they rounded the corner into the living room, the TV light spilling over them. Dad was in his usual post-gym getup—sweatpants clinging to his tree trunk thick thighs, a faded T-shirt draped over his broad chest, his close cropped hair still damp from the shower. But the guy next to him? Fuck. He was young. Early twenties maybe, with the kind of lean, wiry build that came from doing more cardio than strength training—tight black tank top clinging to his chest, his shorts riding up his thighs just enough to tease. His dark hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his lips were slightly parted, still curved in that same amused smile I’d heard from the hallway.

Dad’s hand was on the guy’s back. Not just a friendly pat—no, his fingers were splayed wide, possessive, like he was guiding him somewhere. Like he owned him.

“Hey, kid,” Dad said, his voice was rough. Probably just post-workout gravel. “Didn’t know if you’d still be up.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, just watching the game.” My eyes flicked to the guy, who was looking at me with this slow, assessing gaze, like he was sizing me up. Or sizing Dad up in front of me. Fuck if that didn’t send a weird jolt straight to my dick.

Dad had introduced the guy, but I didn’t catch his name or anything that followed. My brain short-circuited. What the hell was happening? What could this guy possibly want with my dad at this time of night?

“—just stopping by for a bit,” Dad finished, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the guy’s back. The guy leaned into it, his lips parting just a little more, like he was into it. Like he liked being manhandled in front of me.

I blinked. “Uh. You guys want a beer? Game’s still on.”

The guy’s eyes flicked to the TV, then back to Dad, something hungry flashing in his gaze. “Nah, we’re good,” Dad said, his voice dropping an octave. “Just gonna head back to my room.”

His room. The guest room. The one right across the hall from mine.

I should’ve said something. Should’ve made a joke, broken the tension, anything. But my mouth was glue, my cock already stirring in my sweatpants like a traitor. Dad gave me this look—half warning, half challenge—before steering the guy toward the hallway, his hand sliding down to grip his hip. The guy glanced back at me over his shoulder, his smirk knowing, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

The second the door clicked shut, I exhaled sharply, my pulse hammering in my ears. The game was still playing, but I couldn’t focus on it anymore. Not when I could hear the low murmur of their voices through the thin walls, the creak of the bed frame as they settled onto it. Not when my imagination was already filling in the blanks—Dad’s big hands on that lean body, the guy’s lips parting as he—

A muffled, wet noise cut through my thoughts.

I froze.

That wasn’t just talking.

That was the sound of a man getting his throat fucked.

My cock twitched, thickening fast as a wet, sloppy slurp followed. My fingers tightened around the beer bottle, not even feeling the cold anymore. I turned the TV up but I couldn’t stop my ears from listening for the filthy sounds leaking through the walls.

There was no escaping the groans as they grew louder. I set the beer down and stood, my sweatpants tenting embarrassingly as I crept toward the hallway. The closer I got, the clearer the noises became—Dad’s low, guttural grunts, the guy’s breathy little whimpers, the slick, obscene sounds of flesh on flesh. My stomach twisted, heat pooling low in my gut. I shouldn’t have been hard for this, but my cock ached as I pressed my ear to the door.

“Fuck,” the guy moaned, his voice high and needy. “Your cock’s so big—”

A growl rumbled from the other side of the door, deep and possessive. “You take it so good, boy. Such a good little slut for me.”

My knees nearly buckled. I’d never heard my Dad talk like that—never even imagined it. He’d raised his kids to be respectful, always with the ‘sir’s and ‘ma’am’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. But this side of him, raunchy and commanding, sent a jolt of pure, dirty lust straight through me. My hand moved before I could stop it, palming my cock through my sweatpants, the friction maddening.

“Please,” the guy whined, his voice breaking. “I need it. Need you to fuck me.”

The bed creaked violently, like Dad had flipped him over, and then came the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper tearing. My cock throbbed, precome leaking through the fabric as I imagined it—Dad’s thick, veiny dick pressing against that tight hole, the guy begging, pleading for it.

“You want my cock, boy?” Dad’s voice was a dark promise. “Want me to stretch this pretty little ass out?”

“Yes—” The word ended in a choked gasp, like Dad had just breached him. “Fuck, fuck—”

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, my hand working faster, my balls drawing up tight. The sounds were filthy—wet, slapping skin, the guy’s desperate cries, Dad’s groans as he bottomed out, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was all heat and need.

The guy’s voice got louder with every thrust, “Harder, daddy!”

My breath hitched. Daddy. He called him Daddy.

That did it. My orgasm hit me out of nowhere, my cock pulsing as I spilled into my sweatpants, my free hand slapping over my mouth to stifle the moan tearing from my throat. My legs shook, my vision swimming as I rode it out, the sounds from the room fueling every aftershock.

When I finally came down, my chest heaving, the reality of what I’d just done crashed over me like a wave of ice water.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I stumbled back, my sweatpants sticky with come, my face burning with shame. The noises from the room were still going—Dad’s low, satisfied groan, the guy’s breathless giggles—but I couldn’t listen anymore. I bolted into my bedroom, stripping off my pants and shoving them into the hamper before scrubbing myself clean under the scalding spray of the shower.

By the time I crawled into bed, my body was exhausted, but my mind was still racing. The sounds from down the hall had quieted, but I could still hear them—the murmur of voices, the occasional laugh, the creak of the bed as they shifted.

I didn’t sleep for hours.

I left for work early the next day. I eyed the guest room door wondering if they were still in there. Naked and tangled in the sheets. Maybe it was better not to know.

After such a poor night of sleep, I went to bed early and didn’t even see my dad. That wasn’t too weird, our schedules didn’t always align. I worried that it might look like I was avoiding him. I kinda was but I didn’t want to hurt him by making him think I didn’t approve. I just didn’t know how to process this all. 

When he walked in after work the next night, it was awkward.

“Hey, I grilled some chicken for dinner. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I already ate. I think I’m gonna get some work done in my room.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he kicked off his shoes and retreated down the hall.

“Oh, ok.”

The interaction bothered me. I didn’t like this tension in our relationship. My dad and I hadn’t always been close but this last year had brought us so much closer and I loved the hell out of him. I found myself bouncing between the kitchen and the living room, hoping he’d come back out so we could talk.

I glanced at the clock a few hours later. 11:47 PM. The light was still on in my dad’s room. I could see it leaking out from the crooked door jamb. I came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t coming back out tonight. I sighed and started turning off the lights. That’s when I heard a knock at the door. 

Who the hell could be at my door at this time of night on a weekday?

I already knew and my stomach dropped as I padded to the door. Sure enough, there he was, the overhead porch light making him look even younger. His lips curved when he saw me, like he’d been expecting me to answer.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth, confident. “Is your dad up?”

I swallowed, my mouth dry as I remembered how that voice sounded calling my own father ‘daddy.’ “Yeah. He’s in his room.”

“Mind if I—?” He jerked his thumb toward the hallway.

I stepped aside before I could overthink it, my pulse hammering. “Go ahead.”

He didn’t hesitate. Just sauntered past me, his hips swaying just enough to draw my eyes to the way his ass filled out those shorts. I heard the guest room door open and the low murmur of voices as I locked the front door and headed to bed. But I knew I wasn’t getting any sleep. 

I didn’t let myself think. Didn’t let myself hesitate.

 pressed my ear to the wood, my breath coming fast, my cock already half-hard.

“Missed you, Daddy,” the guy purred, his voice dripping with sin.

Dad’s answering growl sent a shiver down my spine. “Get on your knees, boy.”

I didn’t wait. My fingers fumbled with the doorknob, turning it slow, silent, before pushing the door open just enough to peek through the crack.

The room was dim. My dad had turned off the light so now it was only illuminated by the moon through the half-open blinds. But it was enough.

Dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, his sweatpants pushed down to his thighs. The guy was on his knees between his legs, his hands gripping Dad’s thighs as he leaned in, his tongue flicking over the swollen head of the cock that made me.

“Fuck,” Dad groaned, tangling his fingers in the guy’s hair. “Just like that, baby. Suck Daddy’s cock.”

The guy obeyed, his lips parting as he took Dad into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he swallowed him down. My cock ached, pressing painfully against my boxers as I watched, my breath shallow.

Dad’s hips twitched, feeding the guy more of his length. “That’s it. Take it all.”

The guy gagged, his throat working around the thickness, but he didn’t pull back. Just took it, his eyes watering as Dad fucked his face with slow, deep thrusts.

“Good boy,” Dad praised, his voice rough. “Such a good little cocksucker.”

I bit my lip hard, my hand drifting down to palm my cock through my boxers. It was so wrong to intrude on my dad’s sex life like this, but I couldn’t look away.

Dad pulled the guy off with a wet pop, his cock glistening with spit. “On the bed. Ass up.”

The guy scrambled to obey, stripping off his tank and shorts before crawling onto the mattress, his lean body pale in the moonlight. Dad stood, kicking off his sweatpants, his cock bobbing as he moved to the nightstand. The drawer opened, the crinkle of a condom wrapper loud in the quiet room.

My pulse pounded in my ears as Dad rolled the latex down his length, then slicked his fingers with lube. The guy was already spread out, his hole glistening, his breath coming in sharp little gasps as Dad pressed a finger inside.

“So tight,” Dad murmured, working him open. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Deeper,” the guy whined, pushing back against his fingers. “Need you to wreck me, daddy.”

Dad didn’t make him wait. He lined himself up, his cockhead pressing against that tight ring, and then—fuck—he was inside, the guy’s back arching as he took him inch by inch.

“Oh god—” The guy’s voice broke, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “So big—”

Dad bottomed out with a groan, his hips flush against the guy’s ass. “Gonna fuck you so hard, boy. Make you scream so my son knows how good I fuck you.”

He pinned him down with the bulk of his body and a hand on his head. And then he moved.

The room filled with a symphony of noises but they all drowned out as I watched Dad’s thick length disappear into that tight hole over and over, his balls slapping against the guy’s skin.

“Touch yourself,” Dad ordered, his voice rough. “Want you to come while I fuck this ass.”

The guy reached under himself, his hand moving fast, his moans growing louder, needier. Dad’s ass flexed as his thrusts turned erratic, his breath coming in sharp gasps. 

I bit down on my lip to stifle the groan, my body shaking as I watched Dad bury himself deep, his hips stuttering as he emptied into the condom, the guy’s ass clenching around him. I followed him over with my own orgasm

For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing, the creak of the bed as they collapsed together. Then Dad pulled out, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash before pulling the guy into his arms.

I didn’t wait to see more.

I slipped back across the hallway, my heart pounding, my body still humming with the aftershocks of my orgasm. The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, my legs unsteady.