Hello! This is my first post of a fantasy I've been thinking about, and I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. It's just been my father and me since I was six, my dope-headed mother having gone off the rails and left us. I haven't spoken to her since and couldn't care less. Her absence meant I had a lot of time to spend with my father, who I guess I had adored for years. He certainly was my hero as I grew-up. When I was 16 he came out to me. I guess he'd thought I would hate him for it, because he began to cry. That shocked me more than the fact that he was gay. You see, standing at six foot six inches, and two hundred and thirty pounds of steel muscle, he towered over me. Still, his being gay didn't really bother me. What did bother me was eventually he started bringing home these - hmm - little twink faggots. They really irked my nerves, so I started going to a local gym so I could escape seeing them, and after two years of intense training, my body was sculptured magnificently. I noticed that I started to look like Dad, even if I didn't have his salt and pepper beard and even if I was four inches shorter than he.
After the gym one night, I came home and crossed paths with one of Dad's fuck toys. The guy was crying, so of course, my curiosity was peaked as I had never seen my father angry or hurt anyone. In fact, I thought of the two of us as two gentle giants. But I guess I was wrong.
I walked into his room, where he was putting on his pants, I could feel the negative energy in the room. So much so, it burnt my exposed skin. "Hey old man.. What's up?"
I must have startled him because he jumped a bit, shaking his head. "I'd rather not talk about it, Justin."
That really had caught me off guard. We never kept anything from each other. Even our sexual escapades were talker about. I let out a deep sigh and nodded. "I'll be in my room if you need me.. Knock before." I headed towards my room and closed the door, stripping down. I began to rub my body, grasping my nine inch cock, a great gift I had received from him, thinking to myself 'Finally I get to enjoy myself'. Sitting on my bed, I began to stroke my cock, tugging on my pair of low hangers. I closed my eyes and pictured me blowing some girl with whom I had gone to high school. Then something caught my eye. My underwear drawer was wide open. I slowly stopped pleasuring myself, stood up and walked over to take a look. Nothing seemed to be missing, so I shut it and went back to my bed, deciding I needed porn to get the job finished. I puller out my laptop and went to the history and was shocked to see what I found. Titles like 'Dad and Son Fucking Raw'. My mind raced when I seen that, but still I felt compelled to 'start'. When the porno started, it looked pretty vintage. A man entered a bedroom to discover his son still in bed late in the afternoon. A look of disgust and disdain crossed his face, and he grabbed a belt and started thrashing his son, shouting at him to "Wake the fuck up!" and calling him a disgrace. I felt like I didn't want to watch, but my libido must have been clouded because my cock throbbed. I wanted to be that boy - somehow I found myself wanting to be disciplined by my Dad.
I continued to watch as the man yanked the blanket off of his son, revealing his naked frame with welts and bruises from past beatings. He grabbed the boy by the hair and started to rub his face into his cock, making his face smell of his musk. I couldn't handle it at that point. I had just blown my load and started to pant. I didn't even remember touching myself.. It had unleashed a beast in me and it needed out. I knew that tomorrow, after he got off of work, I needed to see my Dad.