Cucked By My Dad

[JustAFrecklyWriter]

Hey guys,

I have written a fair amount of erotic fiction elsewhere under the username Freckleman64. This is a story I wrote (10 chapters) that I think would be fun for this site. Lots of bareback sex and, toward the end, a bit of incest. And so, so, so much cucking. So enjoy!

Cucked By My Dad Chapter 01: Dad seduces my boyfriend!

My name is Leo, and I’m an 18-year-old virgin.

 

Ugh, it feels gross just to admit that. I know what you’re thinking–plenty of people don’t lose their virginities until their late teens or early twenties. What’s the issue? But you don’t understand! I want to lose my virginity more than anything, but every time I get close to a guy, my dad swoops in and ruins everything.

 

It’s not that I think my dad is a bad guy or anything. He’s always been a good dad: kind, caring, not afraid to show emotion or be vulnerable. He was nothing but supportive when I came out of the closet a few years ago, and in our small town, that’s not something to take for granted. He’s a great husband to my mom, too. They seem so happy sometimes it honestly makes me feel a little queasy inside. But for whatever reason, he is the world’s number one cockblock.

 

It doesn’t help that he’s objectively fucking hot. I mean, I’m not into him, obviously–he’s my dad, for Christ’s sake! Talk about yuck. But that doesn’t mean I don’t see why other guys would be all over him. It’s not like he’s got a six-pack or anything, but he’s beefy and muscular from years of working construction. I guess he’s like a bear, kind of, since he’s pretty hairy and he’s got a crew cut and that thick mustache. It’s really furry.

 

I’m nothing like that, sadly. I’ve always been short, and I’m about as pale and smooth as a porcelain doll. But I like to think I’m hot in my own right! I get a lot of compliments on my curly brown hair and I’ve always had a perky ass. When we’re at the beach, guys are always doing a double-take to see me in my little swim trunks. Of course, then they see my dad, and they forget all about me…

 

Anyway, enough about him. This is about my boyfriend, Kevin. He’s so dreamy! Kevin is my first-ever boyfriend, and the story of how we got together is actually really fucking cute.

 

We’re both seniors and until recently, I never thought I could score a hunk like him. He’s an actor, and a really fucking good one. I watched him perform in Grease for all ten runs. He was such a good Danny Zuko. He’s got that dark-haired, brooding look to him, and his scruff is so fucking sexy. I actually auditioned just to be close to him, but I didn’t make the cut (that’s neither here nor there).

 

That didn’t stop my crush, though. He was straight, as far as I knew, but I can be persistent when I want to be so I didn’t think that would be an issue. I stayed late after his final performance even though he’d never so much as said a word to me before. But when he came out from backstage, his hair still greased back, there I was in my tightest pair of shorts clutching a bouquet of daisies.

 

“Omigosh, you were so amazing!” I said, racing over to him before any of the other fangirls had a chance to swoop in.

 

He did that sexy head nod thing that guys do and took the flowers from me. “Thanks.”

 

“I hope you’re going to keep acting after high school,” I said, touching his wrist. “You’re so talented.”

 

He gave me a humble smile. “Nah, I’m going to be a mechanic like my dad.”

 

I gasped. “No! What a loss.”

 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I auditioned for NYU, but… I didn’t get in.”

 

I shook my head ruefully. “They don’t know what they’re missing. But seriously, don’t give up. We need more actors like you.”

 

He laughed a little and scratched the back of his head. “You really think so?”

 

One of the other actors, a tall, bro-y guy named Jason, clapped him on the shoulder. “Yo, you riding with me?”

 

“Yeah man,” said Kevin. He looked at me for a moment, then tilted his head. “Hey… we’re having a little cast party after this. You wanna come?”

 

My heart skipped a beat. My all-time crush was not only talking to me, but inviting me to a party. Fuck yes!

 

“Sure,” I said nonchalantly.

 

“Rad,” said Kevin.

 

That was how I ended up in the backseat of Jason’s mom’s Honda Accord, headed to a party with the future love of my life. Kevin and Jason sat in the front, chatting about the play and who was gonna bring beer to the party. I just sat in the back, reveling in my good luck and workshopping my plan to get in Kevin’s pants by the end of the night.

 

The party was at some girl’s parents’ house out in the sticks. It was already in full swing when we arrived. I could hear loud bass music thumping from inside the house before I even got out of the car. The second I walked through the door, Kevin and Jason headed straight for the beer keg, leaving me all alone.

 

No matter. I knew how to socialize just fine, and besides, I didn’t want to come on too strong with Kevin. Better to work the room a little and then make my move once I had the lay of the land. I filled a cup full of cranberry juice and vodka and sipped at it, scanning the room of actors. I spotted the guy who played Kenickie chugging a beer in the center of the room, the foam spilling all over his tanned, shirtless torso. Rizzo was in the corner gossiping with Sandy, and they were both shooting looks at Kenickie as he burped loudly and crushed the can against his forehead.

 

A girl stood up on the coffee table and turned the music down on her phone. I recognized her as the girl who played Principal McGee, although I think her name was Rachel or something.

 

“Okay guys,” said Rachel (?) with a slight slur in her voice. “Who wants to play Spin the Bottlleeee?”

 

Cheers sprang out across the room. We all gathered in a circle as Rachel (actually, now I’m thinking it was Rebecca) grabbed an empty bottle of André and placed it in the middle. For a brief moment, my heart stopped as I realized that Kevin was nowhere to be seen. But he soon emerged from the back hallway, zipping his pants.

 

“Sorry, I had to piss!” he said as he took a seat across the circle from me.

 

I blushed. God, to be a fly on the wall in that bathroom.

 

The game started out simply enough–Principal McGee kissed Roger, Rizzo kissed one of the stagehands, and Sandy sucked face with Kenickie (to Rizzo’s chagrin). One of the tech girls spun the bottle and landed on the girl who did costumes, which got a lot of whoops and hollers as they swapped spit for a few seconds. Then it was Kevin’s turn, and my heart was beating out of my fucking chest.

 

“Come on bro!” said Jason as Kevin grabbed the bottle and spun.

 

It felt like the world stopped for a moment, the sound dropping away until all that was left was Kevin, the bottle, and me. I watched it like a hawk, praying to God or Stan or whoever had the power to stop that bottle right on me. It started to slow, and for one sickening moment I thought it might land on the disgusting little gremlin next to me, but then it stopped pointing straight. At. Me.

 

“Thank you God/Stan/whoever,” I prayed silently.

 

I could see the redness on Kevin’s cheeks from across the room. 

 

For a moment nobody moved, and then Jason shook his head. “Nah, you gotta reroll.”

 

I could have strangled him. “Says who?” I asked, a little too loud.

 

Jason laughed uncomfortably. “Come on. That’s not fair. You can’t ask a guy like Kev to suck face with another dude.”

 

“Those two did it,” I said, pointing at the (temporary) lesbians who’d spun the bottle before me.

 

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Kenickie chimed in. “They’re like… hot.”

 

My face was burning. This was my moment, dammit! And yet it seemed like the room was turning against me. For a second, I thought all was lost. But then Kevin got to his knees and started crawling over to me.

 

“Dude, what are you doing?” asked Jason.

 

I could feel my heart thumping as he edged his way closer to me. Suddenly he was on his knees in front of me, and everyone else in the room ceased to exist.

 

“You ready?” he asked, his voice low and wavering.

 

I nodded. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. The scratch of his unshaven face brushed against my skin as he crushed his lips against mine. He tasted like bitter hops from the beer, but it turned sweet in my mouth. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment and trying to ignore the sounds of laughter and jeering that came from all around us. Finally, he broke the kiss and leaned back, looking at me like a nervous little puppy dog.

 

“Gross,” said Jason.

 

I glowered at him, but Kevin was already on his feet and walking away. He didn’t go back to his spot in the circle, though–he headed for the beer keg in the kitchen instead. I waited for the attention to shift to the next couple, then slipped out of the circle and joined Kevin in the kitchen.

 

I leaned up against the bar in what I hoped was a casual manner. “Hey,” I said.

 

He gave me a nod but kept his eyes on the beer keg as he filled his cup. “Hey,” he said gruffly.

 

“Are you okay?” I asked. “I know that was… kind of a lot.”

 

He drained his beer, then crushed the cup and threw it in the trash. “You wanna go somewhere and talk?”

 

Fuck yeah, I did. “Sure,” I said breezily.

 

I followed him up to one of the second-floor bedrooms. From the look of the decorations, it seemed to be a little girl’s bedroom. Kevin sat down on the pink princess bed and buried his head in his hands. On the nightstand sat a framed photo of a chubby little redheaded girl in a ballerina costume, grinning at me. I turned her flat on the table–she didn’t need to see this.

 

We sat there in silence for a moment until finally, Kevin looked up at me. His eyes were red.

 

“There’s something you should know,” he said cryptically.

 

I instantly popped a hardon. I crossed my legs and nodded, a beacon of sympathy. “I’m here for whatever you need to tell me.”

 

He took a deep breath, his lip quivering. This was it, the moment I’d been waiting for. Would we do it here, in the bed? In Jason’s mom’s Honda Accord?

 

Before I could settle on a place, he looked away again, shaking his head.

 

I stifled a sigh of impatience. I’d waited 18 years to get fucked up the ass–surely I could wait a few more seconds for him to work through whatever macho bullshit was clearly going on in his sweet, sexy brain.

 

Suddenly he was looking at me again, and he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I think I might be bi.”

 

The words landed like winning lottery numbers. I wanted to cheer and scream and grab his cock through his pants. Instead, I smiled and took his hand. “Thank you for telling me,” I said.

 

“I’ve never told anyone,” he said, his lip trembling. “But you’re so sweet, and you brought me those flowers…”

 

Bingo. I knew those daisies would be a one-way ticket to Pound Town. Best $12.46 I ever spent.

 

“...I just feel like I can trust you.” He was doing those puppy dog eyes again. I needed him inside me.

 

“Of course, you can,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.

 

He hugged me, burying his face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in his scent. He smelled so good, like Axe body spray and hair gel and a little bit of BO. My kind of guy.

 

We stayed like that for a moment–his face in my chest, me surreptitiously smelling his hair–but when he looked up at me, I knew immediately we both wanted the same thing. We kissed again, this time with mouths open and tongues wandering wherever they damn well pleased. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him into me. He grabbed my waist and lowered me onto the bed, sliding on top of me. He rubbed his cock against mine, making both of us hard as our tongues battled.

 

I couldn’t believe it–this was really happening! Finally, after 18 years of pining and furiously masturbating to Calvin Klein ads, tonight would be the night I would lose my virginity. Stupidly, I hadn’t thought to bring any condoms or lube, but I figured Kevin was trustworthy enough and we could just use spit. But when I went to unzip his pants, he pulled away.

 

“Wait,” he said, sitting back up.

 

“What is it?” I asked, not caring what it was and wanting to return to pulling his cock out of his pants.

 

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he said.

 

I wanted to scream. Instead, I just said, “Oh.”

 

“I mean, you’re amazing. And it’s not like I’ve never fucked a girl or anything. I just think… I need a little more time before I’m ready for all that… with a guy.”

 

I nodded graciously. “I understand,” I lied.

 

Sure, it wasn’t the night of my dreams. But it was leaps and bounds more than anything I had done before, and I was certain with time, I could work on him. We made out a little bit more that night (no more hand stuff, sadly) but soon someone was knocking on the door and Kevin kind of freaked out so we had to stop.

 

Since then, I’ve been texting him every day, and he’s really the sweetest. We agreed to take things slow, what with him not being out and all, but I’m hoping I can convince him to at least let me blow him a little and then maybe it will feel so good he’ll give in and put it in my butt? A boy can dream.

 

So that brings me back to my father. He saw my texts with Kevin and found out I had a boyfriend and got all overprotective, so he made me invite Kevin over for dinner so he could meet him and, I don’t know, do that whole “What are your intentions with my son?” thing. I just wanted to get the whole thing over with so we could go back to Kevin’s place and maybe do a little bit of heavy petting.

 

Kevin was kind of intimidated by the whole thing, but he was a good sport and agreed to come over as long as I didn’t tell anyone from school.

 

The night of the dinner he showed up right at six, a bottle of sparkling cider in one hand and a single rose in the other.

 

“Oh my God,” I said when I opened the door. “You’re so sweet!”

 

He grinned. “I thought you’d like it.” He handed me the flower and kissed me on the cheek.

 

From behind me came the sound of my father clearing his throat.

 

“So, you’re the young man who’s dating my son,” he said in that loud, booming voice of his. 

 

I turned to see him eyeing Kevin with a stern look on his face, the same one he used when he was disciplining me. I knew him enough to know he was more bark than bite, but Kevin’s face went pale.

 

“Y-yes sir.” He handed my father the bottle of sparkling cider. “This is for you and your wife.”

 

My dad eyed the bottle, then nodded approvingly. “I like a boy who knows his manners. I’m Jud.”

 

He shook Kevin’s hand and gave him a warm smile.

 

Kevin smiled bashfully. “Kevin,” he said, his voice cracking.

 

My dad kept Kevin’s hand firmly in his and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on in, son.”

 

I followed them into the living room, silently cheering at how well things were going. By this rate, I’d be deflowered by dessert.

 

“I gotta check on dinner,” my dad said as he finally let go of Kevin’s hand. “You boys get comfortable.”

 

The second he left, I wrapped my arms around Kevin and squealed. “Babe, this is going so well! The flowers and the cider were so sweet. I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

 

Kevin ignored me, still staring after my dad as he busied himself in the kitchen. It took me shaking his arm to snap him out of it.

 

“What’s that? Oh, yeah, totally.”

 

I frowned. “Are you alright? You’re acting kind of weird.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m fine. I just want your dad to like me, that’s all.”

 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in close to me. “I was thinking maybe after this we could go for a drive in your car. Maybe hit up that spot by the lake?”

 

The lake was notorious for being the go-to spot for horny teenagers. I’d always wanted to be one of those horny teens getting hot and steamy in the backseat. I figured it’d be the perfect place for a little after-dinner anal.

 

He just nodded absentmindedly. “Sure, sure.”

 

Dad came back a minute later wearing a small apron that said “Kiss the Cook,” a tray of small Swedish meatballs in his hand.

 

He presented the tray to Kevin. “A little appetizer for you boys.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Kevin took one, his eyes lingering on my dad’s.

 

“Oh hell yeah!” I grabbed two of them and shoved one in my mouth right away. “Ugh, Dad, you make the best meatballs.”

 

My dad winked at Kevin. “Go ahead, try one.”

 

Kevin slipped the meatball into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it as it disappeared inside him. When he pulled the toothpick out, it was clean. “Mmm,” he moaned, his eyes fluttering.

 

“Now that’s a compliment,” my dad said, grinning.

 

I grabbed another meatball and bit into it. “Hey, where’s mom? I thought she was supposed to be back from her conference by now.”

 

“She’s stuck in that traffic on I-95,” said dad, his eyes trained on Kevin. “Bumper-to-bumper traffic. Don’t think she’ll be able to make it in time for dinner, unfortunately.”

 

Kevin licked his lips, probably just getting that last bit of meatball sauce. 

 

I pouted. “That sucks, I wanted her to meet Kevin.”

 

Dad grabbed one of the meatballs and winked. “I’m sure I can handle this young man all by myself,” he said, then sucked the meatball off the toothpick.

 

Kevin blushed. I rolled my eyes.

 

“But in all seriousness–I do have a few questions for you, as Leo’s dad.”

 

“Ugh, Dad, do we have to?” I asked petulantly. “I thought this was supposed to be a get-to-know-you dinner, not a grilling session.”

 

My father frowned at me. “Now Leo, you may be 18, but you’re still my son. A father has a right to know the man who’s dating his son.”

 

I scoffed. “Fine, but please don’t embarrass me.”

 

My dad nodded toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

 

I sat next to Kevin on the couch while my dad reclined in the sofa chair. I took Kevin’s hand in mine, surprised at how sweaty it was. It was so cute how nervous he was getting.

 

My dad studied Kevin for a moment, then said, “So, Kevin. What are your plans after graduation?”

 

Kevin shifted beside me, clearing his throat. “Well, I was gonna go to trade school. Be a mechanic, like my dad.”

 

Dad raised an eyebrow. “A man who works with his hands? I can respect that.”

 

He extended his hand to Kevin, who hesitated a beat before taking it. My dad’s grip was firm, his large, rough hand engulfing Kevin’s. 

 

“Real man earns his calluses, every one,” my dad said as he traced the pads of Kevin’s fingers, his eyes trained on my boyfriend’s.

 

I stepped in, anxious to shift the conversation. “Kevin’s also an actor,” I said quickly. I took his hand from my dad and smiled. “He’s really talented.”

 

My dad let out a short bark of a laugh. “Acting, huh? That gonna pay the bills?”

 

I flinched. Kevin squeezed my hand a little tighter.

 

“No, he’s right.” Kevin gave me a half-smile. “I think it’s time I face the music.”

 

My father leaned forward, clasping his hands. “Let’s cut to the chase. You seem like a good boy, but I’m wondering if you’re serious about my son.”

 

Kevin swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes darted to mine. I gave him a soft smile to reassure him.

 

“I, uh… yes. I really like Leo,” Kevin said, his voice a little shaky.

 

My heart fluttered, but Dad just raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a faint smirk. 

 

“Uh-huh. And what exactly are your plans with him?” His voice dropped slightly, more intimate now. Almost like I wasn’t in the room, but still with a clear challenge behind it.

 

“W-we’re taking things slow,” Kevin sputtered.

 

My dad leaned back in his chair and grunted. “Slow, huh? Don’t know if I buy that. Teenage boys always want something–randy little fuckers, all of you.”

 

“Dad!” I hissed, mortified.

 

My dad chuckled. “What, you think I don’t remember what it’s like? I was a horny little devil myself when I was your age. Still am, if you ask your mother.”

 

Kevin’s face flushed, his eyes wide. I felt the heat rising in my own cheeks as the tension in the room grew uncomfortably thick.

 

“You don’t have to worry, sir,” said Kevin. “It’s not like that–”

 

“Oh?” My dad tilted his head, smirking. “So you’re saying you’re a virgin, then?”

 

“Dad!” I said again. God, it was like he was deliberately trying to torture me!

 

Kevin laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, well… no. I mean, this is my first time, y’know… with a guy.”

 

My dad’s grin widened. “The credits really don’t transfer, do they?”

 

I groaned. “Can we please talk about something, anything else?”

 

My dad snapped his fingers. “You know what I just realized? I forgot the cilantro for dinner. Would you mind running to the store for me?”

I blinked, confused by the sudden shift. “What? Right now? Can’t we just skip it?”

“Nah,” he said, standing up with an exaggerated stretch that exposed his hairy belly. “Brings the whole dish together. Take my car, I’ll give you some cash.”

He left for the kitchen. I turned to Kevin, who looked like he was still trying to catch his breath.

“I’m so sorry about him-”

 

Kevin shook his head and gave me a nervous smile. “It’s fine. He’s… a little intense, but I can handle it.”

 

I wasn’t so sure about that. “You’re okay if I leave you alone with him?”

 

He nodded. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

 

Reluctantly, I took the money from my dad when he returned and made my way to the door. Just as I was about to leave, I saw my father slide onto the couch next to Kevin, his arm stretching out across the back of the couch. The air between them shifted immediately.

“So,” my dad said, his voice low and smooth, “tell me more about this acting thing…”

I sped down the road, my fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel. Every second away from home was torture. Kevin had handled my dad’s grilling well enough, but who knew what could happen while I was gone? My dad had a way of pushing boundaries, and I didn’t trust him not to scare off my boyfriend in some misguided attempt at protecting me. The line at the store dragged on forever, and by the time I finally made it through checkout, the sky was already starting to get dark.

I pulled into the driveway, parking halfway on the grass in my rush to get inside. I slammed the car door shut, cilantro in hand, and hurried to the front door.

 

“Dad? Kevin? I’m back!” I called out as I stepped into the house, but the living room was strangely empty. A sense of unease crept down my spine.

 

I moved into the kitchen. The soup was still simmering on the stove, a slow, lazy swirl of steam rising from the pot, but there was no sign of them. The silence was overwhelming. “Hello?” I called again, a little louder this time, but still no answer.

 

Maybe they’d gone out into the backyard for some reason? I could just see dad pulling out one of his legendary cigars to try to impress Kevin (or more likely, watch him choke on the smoke). But when I peeked outside, the backyard was empty. I felt a knot growing in my stomach as I tried to think where the hell they could have gone.

 

I went back into the front hallway and stood there puzzled for a moment, trying to listen for where they could be. Suddenly I heard a muffled sound coming from upstairs, low and distant. That was strange… maybe Kevin needed to use the bathroom or something? But why wouldn’t he use the one downstairs? I climbed the stairs to the second floor and called out again.

 

“Hello? You guys?”

 

I didn’t hear any response, but I could hear the low rumble of my dad’s voice coming from one of the rooms. I checked my dad’s room first to see if maybe they were in the master bathroom, but no dice. The room was empty except for my parents’ neatly made bed and the faint smell of my mom’s perfume on her nightstand. I even checked Dad’s office, but no one was in there. Where in the world were they?

 

The muffled voices grew louder the closer I got to my bedroom. That was strange–what would they be doing in there? Maybe Dad was giving Kevin a tour or something. But when I approached the door, something stopped me from turning the handle. A small voice in the back to my head urged me to go back downstairs. I didn’t want to know what was on the other side of that door.

 

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of my dad groaning.

 

“Fuck, that’s it.”

 

Emboldened, I turned the knob slowly, prying the door open just a crack so I could peek inside. My dad sat on the bed, his back facing the door. He was leaning back on his elbows, his broad shoulders stretching his t-shirt tight across his chest. His eyes were closed and he had a dreamy smile on his face. For a second I thought he was alone, but then I noticed movement coming from nearby. A flash of dark hair bobbed up and down, disappearing into my father’s lap–Kevin! 

 

My knees went weak at the sight. The bed was blocking most of the action, but I could tell he was on his knees in front of my dad, and from the looks of it, he had my dad’s cock in his mouth. What the fuck?!

 

“That’s it, boy,” said my dad. He ran his fingers through Kevin’s hair and gave him a comforting pat on the cheek. “Nice and slow. Keep your lips over your teeth, just like I showed you.”

 

I watched frozen as my boyfriend fellated my father (on my own bed!). I knew that guys were always crushing on my dad, but this? Really?

 

Kevin lifted his head up, letting my dad’s girthy cock slip out of his mouth. Saliva dripped from his wet, red lips. “Like that, sir?” he asked eagerly.

 

“Just like that, baby,” said dad. He stuck his thumb in Kevin’s mouth as my boyfriend sucked on it hungrily. “Remember what I showed you about the balls.”

 

Kevin lifted my dad’s cock above his head and sucked one of his giant balls into his mouth. I could see the other one dangling out of his mouth, hairy and saggy. It looked so huge I was surprised he was even able to fit one of them in. But my dad’s round, saggy testicle was nothing compared to his cock–a massive, meaty snake with a bright pink tip peeking out of the foreskin. Kevin stroked it as he sucked my dad’s balls, still looking up at him with that stupid doe-eyed expression. I watched entranced as the head came in and out of view, retracting into the foreskin with every tug. I may be his son, but even I had to admit the thing was fucking mesmerizing.

 

“Come here, son,” my dad said, his voice husky. For a second, I thought he was talking to me, but then he lifted Kevin off of his crotch and pulled him up onto his lap. I could see that Kevin’s pants were off, his hard cock tenting his boxer briefs. My dad brought him in for a kiss, sliding his underwear below his ass and giving it a squeeze.

 

My boyfriend was making little moaning sounds, fully submitting to my dad’s manhandling. I was still having trouble processing what I was seeing, half convinced that this was all a daydream. But then Kevin let out a little cry, and I could see why–dad had slipped a finger inside Kevin’s asshole, all the way to the second knuckle.

 

“Shh…” said dad. “We don’t want Leo finding us like this.”

 

He was talking about me! What the hell? That was what really snapped me out of it all. I was just about to burst in and start throwing things when Kevin looked up at my dad and said shyly, “I wanna try that other thing you were talking about.”

 

I narrowed my eyes. What other thing?

 

“You sure about that?” my dad asked. He rubbed Kevin’s lip with his thumb. “Not all boys can handle it.”

 

Kevin nodded. “Please, sir. I need it.”

 

Dad stood, and I could see his cock clearly for the first time. He was naked from the waist down, his boxers pooled around his ankles as his cock sprang out from a dark forest of pubic hair. He tore his shirt off, revealing his hairy gut and thick, beefy pecs. I’d seen him shirtless at the beach before, but I had never seen him in all his proud, naked glory. The sight of it left me speechless.

 

Dad kicked off his boxers. “Turn around, baby. Daddy’s gonna get you ready real quick.”

 

I watched in disbelief as my boyfriend leaped to his hands and knees, ass up and face buried in the pillows before I could even blink. His body was pale and slim with a light smattering of chest hair, a contrast to my father’s thick, hairy frame. My dad put his rough, meaty hands on Kevin’s ass cheeks and spread them. He had a hungry look on his face as he stared at Kevin’s hole, enough that I found myself wishing I had a better vantage point so I could see the action. I nearly jumped as he spit loudly on it. As he rubbed the saliva around Kevin’s hole, then started to rub some on his cock, I suddenly realized what was about to happen.

 

No way. No fucking way. My dad was about to fuck my boyfriend!

 

I threw the door open, hitting the wall with a loud slamming noise. “What in the fuck is going on here?”

 

Kevin’s head shot up, his face blank with shock. Even my dad looked temporarily caught off guard, but then he shot me a casual smile and continued stroking his cock.

 

“Hey Leo. Did you get the cilantro?”

 

“Who gives a shit about the cilantro?” I spat out. “You’re fucking my boyfriend!”

 

“Technically,” my dad said, tugging on his foreskin, “we haven’t actually fucked yet.”

 

I was so mad I was shaking. But before I could cuss him out, Kevin sputtered, “I’m sorry, babe! We were just-”

 

“I don’t want to hear anything from you.” I turned on him, seeing red. “You said you wanted to take things slow! But you’ll bend over for my dad five minutes after meeting him?”

 

“To be fair,” my dad said, sliding a finger back into Kevin and eliciting a high-pitched moan, “I was only doing this to help you.”

 

I scoffed. “How is this helping me?”

 

Dad slid his finger in and out, making Kevin whimper a little bit. “How’s he gonna know how to fuck my son if he’s never been with a guy before? I’m doing you both a favor, trust me.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Kevin moaned at the same time as I said, “We don’t want your help!”

 

I glared at him. “Kevin, put your pants back on and let’s get out of here.”

 

“No!” Kevin said quickly. “I… I mean… I need this, Leo.”

 

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he choked out a groan of pleasure. The reason was obvious–my dad was on his knees now, his hands spreading Kevin’s cheeks while his tongue worked its way inside him. The sound of slurping and my dad’s low, rumbling sighs filled the room.

 

“Oh fuck,” moaned Kevin. “I just… I need to feel your dad in me. I’m sorry, Leo. But then we can totally do whatever you want, I promise!”

 

My dad pulled off of Kevin’s hole, his jaw wet with saliva. He winked at me. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll take good care of him for you.”

 

He shoved Kevin’s head into the bed, grabbed his dick, and slapped the head of his cock against Kevin’s asshole. 

 

“You ready, boy? Once I go in I’m not pulling out until it’s done.”

 

“I need it…” Kevin whimpered.

 

I sank into the sofa chair in the corner, watching helplessly as my father penetrated my boyfriend for the first time.

 

“Oh, goooooooood,” moaned Kevin as my dad split him open like a log.

 

Dad’s fingers kneaded Kevin’s ass cheeks as he slipped the head inside, then held it there. He smiled at me.

 

“That’s a good boy,” he said, rubbing Kevin’s ass with affection. “Once you get the head in like this, you wanna go ahead and give my son a few seconds to get used to it. Juuust like that. Why don’t you go ahead and give my cock a squeeze with your hole while I’m in here?”

 

I could tell he must have complied, because my dad’s eyes rolled back and he let out a laugh of pleasure. “Fuck, you’re a natural. Okay, daddy’s gonna go in a little bit more. No, don’t whine, you can take it. That’s it.”

 

I watched him push his cock deeper inside of my boyfriend, stuffing him fuller than I even thought possible. I didn’t know how Kevin could take any more, and my dad was only halfway in!

 

Kevin put his hand back against my dad’s stomach. “Please, sir… it’s too big!”

 

He looked somewhere midway between excruciating pain and unbelievable pleasure when my dad leaned down and kissed him on the neck. “Shhh, it’s okay son. You’re doing so good,” he said as he slid more of his cock inside him. “You’re being so good for me.”

 

A sticky feeling on my fingers made me realize that I had been subconsciously stroking myself through my shorts. I looked down to see a wet spot forming through my briefs, coating my fingers in gooey precum. I hadn’t even realized I was hard! I ripped my hand away, my dick throbbing so hard it ached for release. But no–I wouldn’t be the guy who jerked off while his own father fucked his boyfriend in front of him. I had a little dignity left, at least!

 

“Oh god, I feel so full, sir,” said Kevin, pressing his forehead against the pillow.

 

Dad kissed him on the cheek as he bottomed out inside him. “Call me daddy, remember?” he whispered.

 

“Daaaddyyyy…” Kevin moaned, his body shuddering in pleasure.

 

Now that he’d fit his whole cock inside of Kevin, my dad collapsed on top of him, crushing him into the bed with his weight. Kevin groaned as my dad started rocking his pelvis back and forth, thrusting in and out of his virgin hole.

 

“Is that nice, baby?” dad asked, smacking his hips into Kevin’s ass.

 

Kevin just whimpered, but I could see him pushing his ass out to let my father penetrate him even deeper. He reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him completely naked except for his socks.

 

“You feel so good, son.”

 

“UGH!”

 

“You needed a real man inside you, didn’t you?”

 

“Oh… mmm… y-yes, sir.”

 

My dad squeezed Kevin’s ass cheeks, playing with them as he sawed in and out.

 

“Fuck… that pussy feels so good, baby. Arch your back… that’s it. Let daddy in.”

 

I was pretty sure they’d both forgotten I was there until my dad said, “You should be taking notes too, son.” He smacked Kevin on the ass, letting Kevin push back and fuck himself on my dad’s dick. “See how he’s got his ass up in the air like that? And he’s not worrying about his cock right now, he’s focusing on me and my pleasure. He’s still squeezing his hole on my dick, just like a good bottom should. You’ve got a lot to learn from him.”

 

I rolled my eyes. As if I would be taking bottoming advice from the boy who cheated on me with my own father! Still, what he was saying did make a lot of sense, so I filed it away for future reference and started stroking myself again.

 

Kevin was moaning loudly now, whimpering like an animal as my dad rutted into him. I could see his hand sliding back to grab my dad’s ass, pulling him in deeper as dad continued to pound away. My hand was flying up and down my cock as I rubbed myself closer over the edge. The whole thing was incredibly humiliating, but all I could focus on was the hot bareback sex happening in front of me.

 

Even if it was my dad, and even if the man he was fucking was my erstwhile boyfriend, I had to admit they looked really fucking hot together. Dad’s beefy gut was smacking up against Kevin’s ass, and his thick, hairy legs were dripping with sweat. Those balls that Kevin had been sucking on so lovingly just a few minutes ago were pummeling his own sack, swinging through the air like a pendulum in perfect rhythm. Dad had a determined look on his face now, like he’d forgotten all about me and was solely concerned about getting off. Kevin, on the other hand, had long since forgotten I existed, and was gripping the bed sheets for dear life as my dad rammed into him again and again. He had an ecstatic smile on his face like I’d never seen before, not in a single one of those Grease shows I’d so dutifully attended.

 

Dad was grunting loudly now, his movements jerky and erratic as he got close to a nut. I could feel myself getting close, cheeks burning with shame as I got cuckolded by my own father. Sweat dripped from his forehead and onto Kevin’s back, and the slick, sloppy sounds of flesh on flesh filled the room until it was all I could hear. Then, all too soon, he grabbed Kevin’s waist and pulled him in tight.

 

“ARGH… fuck!” My dad let out a roar as he unloaded inside my boyfriend. I shot my own load onto my leg, my seed warm and sticky as it dripped off my thigh and onto the ground.

 

Dad was shuddering as he spilled his seed, his eyes shut tight in intense concentration. Kevin just had a dizzy look on his face, his hands spread wide on the bed as a little bit of drool fell out of the corner of his mouth.

 

Finally dad pulled out of Kevin, leaning back against his heels as a thin strand of precum dribbled out of his wet, shiny cock. He slapped Kevin’s butt cheek once, then said, “Great job, kid. Now just do that to my son and you’ll be good.”

 

Kevin didn’t look like he heard a word my father said. He was lying on my bed, eyes glazed over as a steady dribble of my father’s seed leaked out of his hole. I knew right then that we were through. Even if I could forgive him, how could he go back to topping me when he’d already known what it felt like to bottom for my father? He’d be begging me to top him all the time and there was no way I could hold a candle to my father. No, my dad had ruined Kevin for me. Hell, he’d probably ruined him for all men.

 

As if to add insult to injury, my dad walked over to me and squeezed my shoulder. His hand was sticky with cum, and the smell of it invaded my nostrils. 

 

“Do me a favor, son,” he said with a grin. “Don’t tell your mother.”

[Palley]

I've read this elsewhere, love it. 1st time seeing the image, always makes me hard. 

[NeedBredAnyTakers]

I read this on Gay demon 😈 

[JustAFrecklyWriter]

Cucked By My Dad Chapter 02
Dad seduces the quarterback!

If I don’t lose my virginity soon, I think I’m going to lose my mind.

 

Graduation is just around the corner, and I’m the only one of my friends who hasn’t punched his V-card! It’s not for lack of trying, of course. I bat my eyes at the cute boys at school and flirt with strange men on the Internet all the time, but for whatever reason, I’ve yet to seal the deal for real. The closest I got was with my first real boyfriend, this hot guy named Kevin. But then my dad had to swoop in and fuck him instead!

 

It’s so frustrating. Everyone says my dad’s hot, and manly, and his dick is pretty big, but don’t I deserve love? I like to think so. In any event, I’ve learned my lesson–don’t let guys anywhere near my father. I never know what he’s going to do! He claimed he fucked Kevin to try and help me, but I don’t know if I buy all that. It’s not like I need my first time to be anything special. I just want a dick in my ass, for crying out loud!

 

That brings me to my current mark, uh, I mean, guy. His name is Brock, and he’s so fucking gorgeous. He’s the quarterback of the football team, a real meathead with a thick neck and a head full of rocks. Just my type! He’s never been particularly nice to me–in fact, he actively bullied me all through junior high. But ever since I came out last year he’s been okay to me, and the last few weeks he’s been downright nice!

 

Whereas he used to bump into me in the hallway and leave me with a bruised shoulder, pretty soon he started just ignoring me, which I counted as a major win. But last month, everything changed. I was walking to AP Chem when I passed him in the hallway. He was wearing his football jersey, his long blonde hair all sweaty from P.E. (it was the only class he wasn’t currently failing). I was ogling him out of the corner of my eye–secretly picturing whether he was cut or uncut like I always do–when suddenly he turned and nodded at me!

 

Let’s just say, for him, that was a lot. I turned to my closest girlfriend, a short, chubby little girl named Gibby, and squealed.

 

“Did you see that?”

 

“He’s in love with you,” she agreed, her eyes wide and desperate.

 

The next day, on my way to lunch, he did it again. But this time, he even smiled at me, too! I started to cherish these little moments of attention. I normally dressed relatively slutty (I had a virginity to lose, after all) but I started dressing even more outrageously. Thin tank tops that showed off my slender arms and smooth, pale skin. Ass-hugging shorts that were at least a size too small in order to show off my greatest asset. And cute, beach-ready little flip-flops so I could show off my pedicured feet and painted toenails. I was downright fuckable, and Brock definitely seemed to notice.

 

I was heading to my locker one afternoon after school when Brock grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into an empty classroom.

 

“You’re looking pretty faggy, Leo,” he said, his voice low and stupid.

 

“Oh, am I?” I asked, batting my eyes.

 

“You really like showing off, don’t you?” He eyed my bare legs, which I’d spent an hour before school putting lotion on.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brock,” I said innocently. “I just like to dress comfortable.”

 

“I heard faggy guys like you like to suck cock,” he said matter-of-factly. He grabbed my tank top and pulled me in closer, exposing my right nipple. He looked down at it and smirked. “So do you?”

 

I smiled sweetly. “Well, if you ask nice.”

 

He pulled the string of his joggers to undo his pants. The head of his dick poked through the light grey material, eager to be released into my mouth. I got down on my knees and grasped the waistband of his joggers, pulling them slowly down.

 

A patch of neatly trimmed, dirty blonde pubic hair peeked out from underneath his compression shorts. His cock was thick and long, and it seemed to go on forever as he pulled his underwear down. Finally, the head of his dick came swinging upward, freed from the confines of its cotton prison. I salivated at the sight of it–cut, meaty, lightly curved at the end.

 

“Put your mouth on it,” he said, his voice husky.

 

I needed no further instruction. I stuck my tongue out, lightly grazing the underside of his cockhead. The bitter, salty taste of his precum was like nectar on my tongue. He let out a low groan, gripping my curly brown hair with his thick fingers. I opened my mouth and took him inside, reveling in the taste of my very first cock.

 

Fuck, blowing my dildo at home did not do this justice. His cock was warm and pulsing with life, oozing its stickiness into my hungry mouth. I took him deeper inside me, determined to show him that gay guys really were good cocksuckers. His fingers gently squeezed my curls as he slowly started humping into my mouth.

 

I was blowing him about halfway by now, his cock sliding past my tongue and hitting the back of my throat at a regular rhythm. I tried to ignore my gag reflex, focusing instead on bringing the most amount of pleasure to the football stud in front of me. I grabbed his meaty thighs, holding onto him to steady myself as I tried to relax my throat. The feeling of his muscular, hairy legs made me leak, and at the same time, allowed me to open my throat enough to take him even deeper.

 

“Fuck, you’re such a good cocksucker,” he moaned. “Suck my dick, faggot.”

 

He was now almost balls-deep inside my throat. I looked up at him, his pubic hair crowding my line of sight with every thrust. He wasn’t looking at me, naturally (probably imagining some blonde bimbo like Haiyleigh from AP Bio) but that didn’t really concern me. I was just happy to be of service! I’d barely had so much as a kiss, let alone a dick to suck and slurp and go to town on. If I played my cards right, I might even get him to pork me before he went off to UF on that football scholarship.

 

He was facefucking me now, his hands gripping the sides of my head as he threw his head back and groaned. I kept my eyes open and my throat relaxed, marveling at how dumb and sexy he looked. He was grinning like an idiot, the right half of his upper lip curled in a smile as he threw back his head and gave into pleasure. Guys like Brock would never cure cancer, but damn did they know how to empty their nuts. Lucky for him I was programmed to receive. 

 

I watched a wave of emotion go over his face as his breathing grew short and ragged. He squinted his eyes in a look of intense concentration like he was trying to remember the square root of four. Then his face went slack and his jaw dropped open as he let out a short gasp.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he said.

 

His cock pulsed against my tongue. A boy was cumming in my mouth, finally! I felt glamorous and classy, like Princess Diana. The warm, bitter liquid splashed against the back of my throat, burning slightly as it went down my esophagus. I swallowed as fast as I could, eager to impress him with my commitment to service. His cock twitched with every shot of cum, eliciting short little moans and whimpers from him as a satisfied smile crept across his face.

 

I did that. I made him smile with my superior cocksucking skills and soft, silky mouth. Take that, Dad!

 

He pulled his cock out of my mouth, wet and already at half-mast. He sniffed, itching his nose as he tucked his cock back in his joggers. There was a loud SMACK as the fabric of his waistband slapped across his belly.

 

“That was dope,” he said in what I thought was a bit of an understatement.

 

I wiped a little bit of semen off my lips and nodded bashfully. “Anytime, Brock.”

 

Well, he sure did take that to heart. Barely two days went by after that without Brock pulling me into some empty classroom or janitor’s closet for a quick blowie. Most of the time he just shoved me to my knees and let his dick flop out onto my face, although sometimes he let me reach in and pull it out myself. I loved the feeling of his cock in my hand, the first real-live dick I’d ever touched besides my own. I made it my mission to learn what he liked–no talking, extra suction on the head, a quick tug on his balls when he was about to cum. Sometimes he would even flex for me while I blew him, which really got me hot. Staring up at his hot, sculpted muscles and the stupid smile on his face was almost enough to make me squirt hands-free. 

 

He even convinced me to join the football team as a waterboy, “just to have that pretty mouth nearby” (blush). I didn’t know the first thing about football, but luckily all I had to do was mix Gatorade powder into a jug and hand out cups to sweaty jocks during practice. I could practically smell the testosterone and don’t even get me STARTED about the locker room. It was like every gay boy’s dream: bare asses, swingin’ dicks, and uninhibited masculinity, all with a healthy undertone of homophobia. Then, once the rest of the guys headed home after practice, Brock would meet me in the showers, his muscles swollen and cock begging for relief. It was like I had died and gone to gay heaven.

 

But no matter how much I tried to move the conversation toward him putting that big, beautiful dick in my pretty little pussy, things never went beyond oral. Brock made it clear that he had no interest in blowing me, which was fine. I mean, a little ass-eating would have been appreciated, but I can respect some guys aren’t into that. But what was driving me crazy was him not wanting to fuck me! Oral sex was nice and all, but in the gay world, it was essentially a handshake. I needed a dick in my ass if I wanted to properly obliterate my virginity. (I guess I could also top somebody, but I had little to no interest in that–I know what I was put on this earth to do, and it was not to hammer away at some twink like I’m Woody Woodpecker).

 

The first time I tried to bring up anal, he seemed totally lost.

 

“What do you mean, fuck you?” he asked, his face screwed up in confusion. His cock was hanging out of his joggers, wet and hard mid-blowjob.

 

I batted my eyes. “You know, maybe you can put it in me some time.”

 

He looked at his cock, then at me. “But I am putting it in you.”

 

I stifled a sigh. Bless his heart. 

 

I smiled coquettishly, stroking his cock as I said, “Yeah, but like, you could also put it in my pussy.”

 

This really confused him. “But you’re a dude. You got a dick.”

 

This time I did sigh. “Yes, I’m aware. I also have an asshole. You know, a tight, wet hole perfect for fucking?”

 

He scrunched up his forehead, the wheels in his head straining to turn. 

 

I jerked him off expectantly, waiting eagerly for the all-clear.

 

Finally, he pursed his lips.

 

“Nah.” He grabbed the back of my head and shoved his cock back into my mouth. “This is good.”

 

I tried to talk up anal over our next few sessions, but it didn’t seem to go anywhere. He was already getting pussy from the girls at school, he said, and the thought of fucking a guy up the ass seemed a little gay.

 

With graduation coming up, I knew my time was running out to seal the deal. But it wasn’t until I was chilling on the couch browsing Snapchat one Saturday night that the idea came to me.

 

Brock had posted a story of him and a few of his dumb friends at some frat party at the nearby college. He had a red solo cup in his hand and seemed to be quite a few beers in.

 

“If you’re a hot chick and you’re seeing this, send tit pics,” he slurred into the camera.

 

I had no doubt that at least a dozen women would take him up on that. But suddenly it occurred to me–why not me?

 

“Everything all right, son?”

 

I looked up to see my dad staring at me. He was lounging on the sofa chair, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Tonight was family movie night and we were knee-deep in the middle of Magic Mike.

 

I put my phone in my pocket and leaped to my feet. “Just gotta use the bathroom.”

 

I ran up to my bedroom and locked the door behind me, then opened up my dresser. I tore through briefs and jockstraps until I found it: that white lace thong I’d ordered from Temu.

 

I slipped out of my clothes and pulled it on, wedging the fabric between my buttcheeks and sliding on a loose pair of sweat shorts to cover it. I turned off all the lights except for my bedside lamp and kneeled in front of the full-length mirror beside my bed (best birthday present I ever got). I held my phone out at arm’s length, playing around with the angles until I got the perfect shot. My shorts were slipping just a little bit down my ass, revealing the top curves of my ass and just a hint of the thong slipping into my crack. I arched my back to perfection and snapped a shot.

 

I had just sent it when I heard a knock at the door.

 

“Son? Are you in there?”

 

“I’ll be right out!” I called as I pulled my shirt back on.

 

“Hurry up. Mike’s about to give a lap dance and your mother’s getting restless.”

 

I kept one eye on my Snapchat for the rest of the night, only half-paying attention to the movie as I waited for Brock’s response. Mom passed out on the couch about halfway through the film, drunk on Chardonnay. As the end credits rolled and I saw there was still no response from Brock, my heart began to sink.

 

“Goddamnit, Tatum, you did it again,” my dad said approvingly. He stood up, clapped me on the shoulder, and kissed me on the head. “Good night, son. Don’t stay up too late, we’ve got church in the morning.”

 

I took a shower and was about to crawl into bed when my phone dinged.

 

“Hot. Got any more pics?”

 

It was a selfie of Brock. He was in the back of a car now, his shirt pulled up and hanging from his teeth as he flashed his stomach and a bit of his pubes.

 

I sat up at full attention, all weariness gone. I went back and forth between poses until I landed on one that I thought telegraphed what I wanted pretty well: a photo of my finger hooked around the thong, yanking it to the side to reveal just a glimpse of my hole underneath. No caption necessary.

 

Barely a minute passed before my phone began to ring. I picked it up immediately, my heart racing.

 

“Hello?”

 

“That was hella hot,” said a deep voice on the other end.

 

I smiled, laying on my stomach and twirling an imaginary phone cord. “Thanks. Thought I’d show you what you’re missing.”

 

“You ever put anything in there?”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

I could hear his breathing on the other end of the phone, hot and heavy.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Mmm, you know. The usual stuff. My fingers, a vibrator… nothing big enough to really satisfy me, you know?”

 

He was silent for a moment. I heard a faint squelching sound in the background. It took me a moment to realize he was stroking himself.

 

“I could show you sometime if you want,” I said teasingly. “Maybe you could help?”

 

The noise got faster and faster until I heard the sound of a long, low groan. Brock’s breath was heavy and panting.

 

“Meet me after the game on Friday.”

 

I heard the sound of the click as he hung up the phone. 

 

A smile spread slowly across my face. This was it! It was finally happening!

 

Friday night was the school championship as our team faced off against the East High Vikings. I hadn’t really followed sports at all before joining the team as the waterboy, but apparently, we were the favorite to win. Coach was being really hard on Brock all week, so much so that he didn’t even stay after for his usual post-practice hummer. I was fine with it, though–all it meant was that much more cum spraying inside my tight little hole.

 

The morning of the game I woke practically buzzing with anticipation. As I came downstairs for breakfast, my dad was sitting there still in his bedclothes, a t-shirt and a loose pair of tighty whities. He lowered the newspaper and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

 

“What are you so excited about?” he asked.

 

“The big game is tonight.” I grabbed a waffle off the table and started nibbling at it.

 

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I still don’t know why you joined the football team. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re taking after your old man. I just never thought you were into that.”

 

I shrugged. “People change, what can I say? Football is the great American pastime and I’m just here to support the team.”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. Maybe I should go with you tonight.”

 

My eyes widened. “No, really, that’s not-”

 

“I should be there! Support my son. It’s the championship, right?” Dad set down the paper and scratched his balls. 

 

I frowned. “Yes.”

 

“Excellent. And with your mom on that Australian walkabout for the next two weeks, it’ll be nice to get out of the house. Spend some quality time with my son.”

 

I groaned. “Dad, I’m gonna be busy. Some of us might hang out after and I-”

 

Dad patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, boy. I won’t make a nuisance of myself. Just wanna see the game and then I’ll head on home. You can even take the car, how’s that sound?”

 

I beamed. “Okay. Thanks!”

 

The school day couldn’t come to an end fast enough. By the time the bell rang, I beelined straight to the field. The guys were already there stretching and getting ready for drills.

 

“Leo! Over here,” said Coach Balz. He beckoned me over to the hydration station by the benches. “Tonight’s a very important night. I got a lot of thirsty boys and they’re all relying on you to keep them quenched. That sound like something you can do?”

 

I gave him a salute. “Absolutely, sir.”

 

He gave me a quick smack on the ass. “Go on, son.”

 

Gametime was at 6, and by 5:30, the bleachers were already mostly filled. Almost the whole school had come out to see the game, and I could see Gibby squeezing herself in on the end of a row of guys who had all painted their chests to say “Vikings Suck.” 

 

She waved ecstatically at me, then pointed to her left. I looked over to see my father squeezing in beside her, wearing his tan trucker jacket and a pair of Wrigley jeans. He gave me a quick thumbs up, then turned to the guy with the V painted on his chest and began chatting him up.

 

Soon the coach was calling us all in for our pregame huddle. Brock’s face was furrowed in concentration, the same way it did when the teachers asked him to spell something like “elephant.” The coach was going on and on about some play they were going to do and how the other team was all made up of cocksuckers who didn’t know their ass from their elbow. I just stared at Brock, trying to picture how amazing his adrenaline-heavy post-win fuck would be.

 

As much as I’d never really cared for football, it was pretty exciting to witness a championship game from the sidelines.  I cheered on the guys and handed out cups of Gatorade every time they came in from the field, swapping out used towels for fresh ones and resisting the urge to give the used ones a sniff. By the end of the third quarter, we were up by six and spirits were running high. I took a peek out into the stands, where Gibby caught my eye and gave me a quick wave. My dad was still talking to the guy with the V on his chest, his arm around the back of the bleachers as he leaned in close and said something I couldn’t hear. I could tell the guy was blushing even from here.

 

“Leo! Keep your head in the game and hand me those towels,” growled the coach.

 

The last quarter was particularly brutal. The guys kept making one mistake after the other, and pretty soon our places had switched and now we were the ones down by six. Brock took off his helmet and threw it on the ground, letting out a roar that was equal parts scary and sexy.

 

“Listen you sons of bitches,” yelled Coach Balz. “We’ve only got three minutes on the clock. Now I know you cocksuckers can win this if you goddamn try, you hear me? Let’s do this!”

 

They went back on the field after the timeout and took their positions. My eyes stayed on Brock, who was concentrating so hard he looked like he had been asked to spell something tough like “electricity.” As soon as the ball got into the hands of the center, he snapped the ball back to Brock, who took off running. I joined the other fans in cheering him on, watching as he ducked and weaved through the other players to get to the endzone. 

 

I was standing close to the sidelines, eager to witness Brock’s brilliant, game-winning touchdown from as close as possible. As he dodged another tackle, my eyes caught on my father in the stands. He had his arm around the shirtless guy now and seemed to be whispering something in his ear. The guy giggled, then put his hand on my dad’s leg.

 

“Leo, watch out!”

 

The sound of Coach’s voice snapped me out of it. I looked up just at that moment to see Brock careening toward me, dodging the player who was currently charging at him full-on. Before I could dive out of the way, Brock crashed into me, pummeling me to the ground. Then everything went dark.

 

The first thing I noticed was a pounding in my head. I lifted my hand to my head and groaned, making a rustling sound as I moved. I was lying on some kind of crinkly paper that felt like the kind you saw at a doctor’s office. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was in the infirmary at the school. My father stood by the door, his face red with anger.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted. “That is my son, goddamnit!”

 

I could see Brock sitting in a chair next to him, his eyes cast downward. He had taken off his jersey and pads, sitting there in just his football pants with his helmet in his hands. His dirty blonde hair was all mussed up from the game and he was covered in dirt and sweat.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “But I told you, he came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to-”

 

“I don’t give a damn what you did or didn’t mean to do,” said my dad. “My son is fragile. He’s not like you, he can’t take all this rough and tumble bullshit.”

 

Brock snorted. 

 

My dad glared at him. “You serious right now, boy?”

 

Brock cocked his head. “I mean… Come on, sir. I think we both know what kind of boy your son is.”

 

Dad ground his teeth. “Oh, I see how it is. You think just cause he’s a little femboy you can do whatever you want with him, do you?”

 

Femboy? I mean, sure, I wasn’t exactly masculine, but I wouldn’t go that far. I wanted to say something in my defense, but my head still hurt, so I just lay still on the table.

 

Brock smirked. “Look, he’s the one trying to get me to fuck him, okay? Sending me pussy pics on Snapchat, going on and on about how he wanted me to fuck his tight little hole.”

 

My dad screwed up his face in anger. I felt a cold sweat break over me.

 

Brock went on. “But I’m not gonna fuck him because I’m not a faggot, alright? So none of this has anything to do with me. It’s not my fault the little fairy was in the way. Shit, if you’d raised him to be more of a man, he’d probably be on the team instead of on the sidelines.”

 

My face burned with embarrassment. I couldn’t tell how much of this was macho posturing and how much was serious. How could he say these things? I mean, was he really not gonna fuck me? After all that effort I’d put in? The gall!

 

Dad reached for his belt buckle and popped it open. He slid his belt out from around his waist and let it smack against the wall. “What did you just say, young man?”

 

Brock raised his hands. “Whoa man, I don’t want any trouble. Look, I said I was sorry.”

 

Dad scoffed. “I know guys like you, Brock. Think you own the whole world just cause you got a lot of muscles and a big dick. Well, I was just like you once. And let me tell you–you don’t know fucking shit.”

 

Brock stood up and sneered at my dad. “Really, old man? You think you’re a match for me?” He lifted his arm and flexed, his bicep like a giant rock. “Pretty sure I could take you any day.”

 

“You wanna try me?” asked Dad. He dropped the belt on the ground and ripped off his trucker jacket, then raised his hands in a fighting position.

 

Brock laughed. “I don’t beat up old guys.”

 

“I think it’s time someone taught you how to respect your elders, son.” Dad grabbed Brock’s arm and yanked it behind him.

 

Brock let out a cry of pain. “Dude, what the fuck?”

 

He twisted out of his grip and wrapped his arms around Dad’s waist, bracing his legs wide for balance as he tried to tackle him to the ground. I lifted my head weakly, watching in awe as the two men fell to the ground, each one struggling for dominance over the other. I was still too dazed to really move, and even if I could, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop what was playing out between the two of them.

 

“You smug son of a bitch,” my dad grunted as he wrested his way to sitting on Brock’s legs. He tried to pin Brock’s hands to his sides but Brock slipped free, rolling to the side before charging forward and catching my dad around the chest. 

 

He had my dad pinned against the ground now, breathing heavily as he used his weight to keep Dad down. Their faces were inches away from each other and dripping with sweat. “Give it up old man,” he said, breathing heavily. “Your wrestling days are over.”

 

Quick as a flash, Dad twisted his body, using his legs to roll them both over. Now my dad was the one on top of Brock, who had the wind knocked out of him from being slammed into the floor. Dad grabbed his arm and rolled him over, pinning him facedown on the ground.

 

“What did you say?” he snarled in his ear.

 

Brock struggled weakly against my father’s grip. “Argh… get off me, man!”

 

“Not until you apologize to my son, punk.”

 

“Fuck you, dude!”

 

I saw a glint in my father’s eyes, the same one I used to see when I was younger and I did something to really piss him off. With one hand still holding Brock’s arms in place, my father used the other to grab the waistband of Brock’s football pants.

 

Brock’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

 

“I’m teaching you some respect,” said my dad as he pulled Brock’s pants down to reveal his pale, hairy ass. He was wearing one of those straight guy sports jockstraps, and his ass jiggled a little as my dad yanked the waistband of Brocke’s pants down below his cheeks.

 

“I’m guessing your old man never gave you any discipline,” said my father as he brought one of his rough paws down on Brock’s ass cheek.

 

“You can’t do this! You… you’re not my dad,” said Brock.

 

Dad spanked him again on the cheek, not too hard, but just enough to let him know he meant business. 

 

“I’m giving you a valuable lesson, boy.” He brought his hand down in another spank, this time a little bit harder. “You need to respect your elders.”

 

The next spank caused Brock to cry out. “Ow! Stop it, you old fuck!”

 

Dad gave him a few more swats on each cheek, causing his bottom to start turning a light shade of pink.

 

“Ow! I’m… I’m sorry, okay?”

 

“Sorry for what?” asked my dad as he brought his hand down for another sharp spank.

 

“Agh! Sorry for… for hurting Leo. For not being more careful.”

 

“And?” SMACK!

 

“Jesus, stop it! I’m sorry for calling him a faggot. He’s… just a normal gay guy.”

 

Dad leaned down and whispered in his ear. “You know what I think?” he said softly. 

 

He slipped his hand in between Brock’s legs and grabbed his cock. I was shocked to see that Brock had a raging boner.

 

“I think you like this, son.”

 

Brock’s eyes went wide. “N… no I don’t.”

 

Dad stroked him a little bit, making him whimper. “No? Well, how about this?” He let go of Brock’s cock and pulled him into his chest. He wrapped his arm around Brock’s head, burying the jock’s face deep into his armpit.

 

“You smell that?” he said gruffly as Brock struggled against him. “That’s what a real man smells like.”

 

Brock stopped struggling, then went limp. His hands curled around Dad’s arm as he breathed him in deeply.

 

“Fuck yeah… you like that, don’t you?” asked my dad.

 

Even from here, I could see the head of Brock’s dick springing out the side of his jockstrap. My dad flexed his arm, showing off his rock-hard biceps. Even for an old man with a gut, he was still built like a tank. Brock moaned, squeezing my dad’s muscles as he softly kissed his arm.

 

“I know what boys like you need,” said Dad as he pulled off his shirt. “You think you’re hot shit but all you really want is a real man telling you what to do.”

 

Brock kissed his way down my father’s hairy chest, his hands squeezing my father’s pecs. He took one of his nipples in his mouth and sucked on it gently, squeezing and massaging the skin as he suckled.

 

“That’s it, boy. Show daddy how much you want it.”

 

I was starting to get hard myself, dazed as I was. I sat up slowly, ignoring the throbbing in my head as I got a better look at the action on the ground. Brock was kissing and licking my dad’s chest, his hands roaming over Dad’s hairy torso. Dad had Brock’s cock in his hand, stroking it softly as he soaked in the boy’s admiration.

 

I was torn between feeling absolutely livid at my father for seducing yet another conquest of mine and feeling flattered that he would go to such lengths to defend me. I debated saying something but had no idea what that would be, so I kept quiet and started rubbing myself through my shorts.

 

Dad lifted Brock’s chin until the jock was looking him in the eyes. “Tell me what you want, boy.”

 

Brock swallowed. “I… I don’t know…”

 

“I do,” said Dad. He leaned in and kissed Brock on the lips, devouring the young jock’s mouth with wet kisses.

 

Brock moaned, going limp as a rag doll in my father’s arms.

 

“I know exactly what you want,” Dad said in between kisses. “You want daddy to be proud of you… to think you’re a big man… to see your big muscles… and your brute strength… and tell you what a good boy you are…”

 

Each phrase was punctuated with another wet, sloppy tongue kiss. Dad slid his hand down Brock’s back to the cleft above his cheeks, slipping his fingers into Brock’s crack. Brock moaned as Dad’s middle finger, rough and calloused, brushed up against his hole.

 

“You don’t need to pretend anymore,” Dad said. He nipped Brock’s ear, then whispered, “Daddy loves you just the way you are.”

 

He slid the tip of his finger inside of Brock, causing the great big jock to cry out and grip his arm so tightly his fingers turned white.

 

“Shhhh,” said Dad as he wiggled his finger. “Daddy’s here now. Daddy’s got you.”

 

He pushed Brock onto his back, crouching at the jock’s feet with his finger still inside him. He pulled the jockstrap aside to release Brock’s throbbing cock, then swallowed it whole.

 

Brock’s eyes went wide as he shouted, “Oh, fuck!” He lifted his head weakly, staring down at my father as he bobbed up and down on the football player’s cock.

 

Unlike my blowjobs, which were generally hands-free and entirely one-sided, Dad was putting everything he had into blowing Brock. As his right hand roamed across Brock’s body, pinching his nipples and squeezing his biceps, the fingers on his left hand were hammering in and out of the jock’s tight hole. Despite (to my knowledge) never doing any form of ass-play, Brock’s asshole was taking one finger after another until Dad was three fingers deep. Brock’s face was twisted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy as who knows how many internalized masculine ideals were being steamrolled inside his brain.

 

Dad pulled his fingers out of Brock’s hole and sucked them dry. “Fuck, boy. You taste so good.”

 

He grinned lecherously as he unbuttoned his pants and started to pull them down until he was wearing nothing but those tighty-whities. Brock watched him nervously, his cock as hard as a nail.

 

“Wh-what are you gonna do, Mr. Wyte?”

 

Dad pulled his cock out of his briefs and gave it a quick tug. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”

 

He threw Brock’s leg over his shoulder and positioned himself at the entrance of Brock’s innocence.

 

Brock’s lip quivered slightly. “I… I’m scared.”

 

Dad put his hand behind Brock’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. The big jock was like a trembling kitten in Dad’s hands, more soft and vulnerable than I had ever seen him.

 

“Don’t be afraid, baby,” Dad said gently. “You want this, you know you do. Now be a good boy and let daddy in.”

 

Brock kept his eyes locked onto Dad’s, then nodded slowly. His lips parted in a soft gasp as Dad pushed into him, eviscerating his manhood inch by inch.

 

“That’s it, baby boy,” my father said as he sank his cock into the football player. “Doesn’t this feel right?” 

 

He slid another inch inside, his eyes gleaming as he said, “You don’t have to pretend anymore. You’re daddy’s good boy, aren’t you? You just wanna make him proud.”

 

“UGH!” Brock grunted in surprise as Dad bottomed out inside him. “Y-yes sir,” he said softly.

 

Dad grinned. “I’m so proud of you, son. You’re making daddy feel so good.”

 

He began rocking his hips back and forth, slowly at first, then more forcefully as he opened up Brock’s virgin asshole. The jock’s eyes were wide, filled with fear and pleasure and hungry, hungry need.

 

I felt a surge of jealousy as I watched my father take Brock’s virginity. It should be me on my back getting filled, not him! But Dad was obviously right–there was no denying Brock’s submissiveness, how quickly he had spread his legs for my father and given himself to another man. Yet again, he was a poor choice to take my virginity. I had been so close, too! Oh well. Now all there was to do was to sit back and enjoy the ride as my father worked his magic.

 

Dad leaned his forehead against Brock’s, his eyes locked onto the younger man’s as he thrust into him. “You feel me?” he asked, his voice harsh and commanding.

 

“Yes sir,” Brock said meekly.

 

“Tell me,” he said, picking up the pace of his thrusting. “Tell me who your daddy is.”

 

Brock’s leg flailed in the air as Dad slammed his cock in deep. “UGH! Y-you’re my daddy.”

 

“Again,” said Dad.

 

“You’re my daddy.”

 

Dad pressed their chests together, cradling Brock’s head in the crook of his neck. “Louder!”

 

“You’re my daddy!”

 

“Scream it!”

 

“YOU’RE! MY! DA-DDY! UGH!”

 

Brock’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as Dad pummeled his asshole, their sweaty bodies grinding against each other. I was rubbing myself underneath my shorts, working my way to a particularly brutal orgasm. Dad clamped down on Brock’s neck, licking and sucking and biting him like an animal as he burrowed deep inside Brock’s bowels.

 

“That’s it,” groaned Dad. “That’s it! Take my cock, boy. Take all of me. Take. My. Fucking. Seed!”

 

He bellowed loudly, his arms wrapped tightly around Brock’s frame as he loaded him up with his cum. He was shaking, his whole body tensed and dripping with sweat as he inseminated the newly-broken jock underneath him. It was fascinating to watch, almost primal, like one of those nature shows. My father was a beast of a man, the pinnacle of virility. I was sure that if Brock had been a woman, my father’s seed would have taken root immediately. I suppose, even with my father cucking me again, I should be thankful I didn’t have to worry about any new siblings.

 

Brock just watched my father’s face in awe, taking in every grunt and twitch as my father spilled his seed. When my dad was finished ejaculating, he laid his head down against Brock’s chest and nuzzled him gently.

 

“So proud of you,” he murmured.

 

“Um… sir?” Brock’s voice was tentative.

 

Dad lifted his head.

 

“Uh, I was wondering… could I… cum, maybe?”

 

Dad smirked. He kissed him softly, slipping his hand behind his head to pull Brock deeper into the kiss.

 

“Let daddy take care of you.”

 

Without removing himself from Brock’s hole, my father sat back on his legs, pulling the jock up with him. He held the boy steadily with one hand, using the other to softly stroke Brock’s dick. He continued kissing Brock, probing the boy with his tongue as he worked his cock like a pro. He was also bucking his hips ever so slightly, stimulating the jock’s prostate as he brought him closer to the edge.

 

I myself was within seconds of cumming, overwhelmed by the hot display of man sex in front of me. As Brock’s whimpering grew louder and his cock started to spurt jets of hot cum all over his stomach, I felt my own cock erupting inside my shorts. I kept my breathing steady, not wanting to bring attention to myself as my sticky seed seeped through my underwear and trickled down towards my hole.

 

I said nothing as my father and Brock got dressed, pretending to sleep as they pulled their clothes back on. My father licked Brock’s seed off of his stomach, then fed it to him in a hungry kiss. I didn’t know why I didn’t say anything–perhaps I was embarrassed by it all, or perhaps I didn’t want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing I knew I had been cucked again.

 

After a few minutes, I felt him gently shaking me.

 

“Leo? Leo, are you awake?”

 

I opened my eyes, then murmured, “Dad? What happened?”

 

He put his hand on my forehead. “Hey, son. There was an accident. You fell and hit your head.”

 

I sat up slowly. “Right… I remember.”

 

Dad looked at Brock, then jerked his head at me.

 

“Uh, I’m sorry, Leo,” Brock said sheepishly. “I should have been more careful.”

 

“That’s okay,” I said. “What happened with the game? Did we win?”

 

Brock shook his head. “We lost. By a lot.”

 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

 

He looked at my dad and smiled. “It’s okay. The night wasn’t a total waste.”

 

The sexual tension between the two of them was still palpable. I tried to ignore the smell of cum in the air and the obvious bottom eyes that Brock was throwing at my father. 

 

After a moment my dad said, “Brock, why don’t you go on and give my son and me a minute? I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

 

Brock nodded and left. As soon as he was gone, Dad handed me an aspirin and a glass of water.

 

“I was worried about you for a second there,” he said, and I could actually hear the concern in his voice.

 

“I’m fine, Dad,” I said.

 

He patted my leg, then lifted his hand and looked curiously at it. I felt my stomach sink when I saw it covered in sticky clear cum.

 

He looked down at the wet spot on my shorts and grinned. “Looks like someone wasn’t entirely asleep.”

 

He wiped his hand on his shirt and chuckled. 

 

“I love you, son. Just do me a favor, will you?”

 

He winked at me. 

 

“Don’t tell your mother.”

[JustAFrecklyWriter]

Cucked By My Dad Chapter 03

Dad seduces the pastor!

Well, it’s official. High school has come and gone and I’m STILL a virgin.

 

Even my friend Gibby lost her virginity! And she’s hideous!

 

Okay, maybe not hideous, but still. We swore we would be deflowered by the time we graduated, and I can’t believe that bucktoothed Gibby Berkman managed to make good while I didn’t.

 

It’s not her fault, though. She’s not the one who slipped in and fucked both my boyfriend AND the high school quarterback before I could have a chance to. That honor would belong to my father, Jud. He’s like a walking sex machine. Ever since I can remember, my friends would beg to come over after school just so they could get a chance to run into him. I used to think I was popular, but then my dad would walk in the room and it was like I didn’t exist. Previously, he would just smile and ignore the attention, but ever since I turned 18, it’s like he’s been actively cock blocking me!

 

First, there was my boyfriend, Kevin. Hot, actor, scruff that you could just die for. What does Dad do? He fucks him up the ass. And at a family dinner, no less! Then there was the school quarterback, a meathead named Brock who used to let me suck his dick after school. I’m this close to sealing the deal, when what happens? Dad swoops in and fucks him AGAIN.

 

If I’m being honest, I can’t really blame them, either. Dad’s always been attractive–hairy and muscular with a little bit of a dad bod. And since he loves walking around the house in tighty whities, I know he’s hung, too. I’m sure if he were someone else’s dad I’d be all over him. But no, I’m just left with the thankless task of being his son—the second fiddle to his Don Juan.

 

Now that I had officially graduated, it seemed I was all but destined to go to college with my virginity still intact. And to top it all off, Dad and I were stuck with each other for a week on this stupid church mission trip.

 

My family and I go to one of those modern-day evangelical megachurches where you have like seven pastors and no one can really tell what any of them do. Pastor Carl was the one who organized the mission trips, where a group of college kids would go to some church in North Carolina to do community service for a week. Dad volunteered as a chaperone, although I’m pretty sure he was just doing it to keep an eye on me since it was my first time going. At this point, I wouldn’t have put it past him to put one of those 17th-century chastity belts on me and call it a day. But it’s not like he needed to bother–how was I possibly going to get laid when I was stuck all week doing manual labor with a bunch of Christian college kids?

 

Even on the way to North Carolina, as I sat at the back of the bus listening to Taylor Swift and eyeing the other boys for potential virginity-takers, I knew my chances were slim.

 

There was Levi, a rising second year and Messianic Jew I’d known since childhood. He was hot, for sure–buzzed brown hair, a gorgeous, statuesque nose, and a killer smile–but he was 100% straight and annoyingly kind. He’d been the first one to congratulate me when I came out, and he’d always come to my defense whenever someone raised an issue with my being gay. His heterosexuality was the one thing that kept me from fully believing in a loving, compassionate God.

 

Then there was the rising third year, Todd: thin, lanky, and aggressively heterosexual. He was kind of cute in that sinewy Pete Davidson kind of way. But his sexual misdeeds were an open secret, as even I knew that his rich parents had paid for at least three girls to get out of “trouble.” He sat two rows in front of me, secretly watching Twitter porn on his phone and shooting nervous looks whenever anyone walked past in the aisle.

 

There was the rising fourth year, Elijah: a short, kind of beefy redhead with a boy-next-door haircut and pouty lips that would look perfect on my pink purse. But he was the least likely of all my suitors–practically married to Jesus already, he never went anywhere without his cross necklace and Bible. Even now he was nose-deep in it when he should have been nose-deep in something much softer and wetter.

 

(I mean my pussy. Just in case you were wondering.)

 

The rest of the college kids on the mission trip were all girls, so there was no chance there. No, it seemed as though the next week of my life was destined to remain as virginal as the last 18 years of my life.

 

Then Pastor Carl sat down next to me.

 

“Hey Leo,” he said casually. He gave me that classic straight guy nod, like one of those old guys who’s just “one of the kids.” 

 

In Pastor Carl’s case, however, he kind of was. This man was not your average pastor: slicked-back hair, muscular arms covered with tattoos, always wearing his signature beanie and oversized Jeffrey Dahmer glasses. He still wore skinny jeans, which was somehow hot and not offputting based on his age and the fact that it wasn’t 2008. He was like 35 or so, which was practically ancient as far as I was concerned but still young enough to seem relevant. We all really liked him because he would always talk frankly with us about stuff like drinking or smoking pot.

 

He was also really fucking hot.

 

Pastor Carl sighed, stretching his legs out in the narrow space. “I love these trips,” he said, gazing out the window for a moment. “Being of service… it gives me a chance to reflect, you know? Unplug from the world, get out of the usual routine.”

 

I shrugged. “I guess.”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t sound too excited.”

 

“As excited as I can be about manual labor.”

 

He laughed. “I hear you. God’s work isn’t always glamorous, but we’ll make sure to have some fun too.” He winked at me.

 

I found myself blushing. Did he mean it like I thought he did? No, that was ridiculous. The man was married, and besides, he was totally Christian. Sure, he had big biceps and he smelled like sandalwood and musk. And yes, I had pictured myself sucking on his foreskin like any red-blooded American twink would. But that was a fantasy, right?

 

“Tell me, what’s one thing you’re looking forward to this week?” he asked.

 

“I guess the camping trip at Lake Laurie next weekend.”

 

He smiled. “That’s my favorite part too. It’ll be good to relax after a week of doing God’s work. Lay out in the sun, get that tan going…”

 

He stretched his arms up high, causing his shirt to ride up a little. I glanced down to see a treasure trail leading underneath his jeans. Fuck.

 

When I looked up, he was smiling at me.

 

“So, Leo.” His voice was low now, and he leaned in like we were sharing a secret. “You dating anyone? Got a girlfriend or… boyfriend, maybe?”

 

I swallowed. Pastor Carl knew very well I was gay–the whole church did. Not that he and I had ever talked about it. But based on the way this conversation was going, perhaps we should have!

 

“N-no,” I said, caught off guard. I took a moment to collect myself then turned toward him, crossing my legs and batting my eyes. “I mean, I had a boyfriend for a little while, but… it didn’t work out.”

 

He smiled. “I just wanna say I think you’re really brave. Living in your truth like that.”

 

I smiled shyly. “Thanks. It’s just who I am, I guess. God just… showed me what I wanted. Who am I to say no to that?”

 

He nodded. “Yeah.” He put a hand to his chest. “I mean, I personally don’t agree with the lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you for being yourself. Hate the sin, love the sinner, right?”

 

I giggled, brushing back my brown curls. “You’re so right, Pastor Carl.”

 

He leaned in closer, his cologne wafting into my nose like the smell of Brock’s sweaty balls after football practice. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that temptation is everywhere. I’m a happily married man, but that doesn’t mean God doesn’t put my faith to the test every day. It’s tough, especially when there’s so much out there to want. You know what I’m saying?”

 

I touched his bicep, giving it a subtle squeeze. “I know exactly what you mean.”

 

He smiled, and I was almost entirely sure that he was flexing his arm for me. But before anything else could happen, I spotted my father lumbering down the aisle toward me. I took my hand away from the pastor’s arm and leaned back in my seat.

 

“Thanks for the talk, Pastor Carl,” I said.

 

He patted my leg. “Anytime.”

 

He got up and passed my father in the aisle, greeting him with a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder. Dad sat down next to me, his heft taking up the whole seat and then some.

 

“How you doing, son? I hope you’re talking to the other kids, not just isolating back here and listening to Taylor Swift.”

 

My face reddened. “I’m fine, Dad. I don’t need you looking out for me this week, okay? I can handle myself.”

 

My dad grunted. “Sure you can. I just thought maybe we could bond a little this week, father and son. How’s that sound?”

 

I rolled my eyes.

 

“I’m serious,” he said. “Your mom was devastated she couldn’t come on the trip, you know how much she loves home renovation. If she hadn’t caught that damn African sleeping sickness, it would be the three of us on a Wyte family adventure. But you and I can still have fun, right?”

 

He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. I avoided his gaze–I was still pretty peeved about him cucking me and I didn’t want him to think we were too chummy.

 

“Well, Leo? What do you say?”

 

I spotted Pastor Carl sitting toward the front of the bus. He caught my eye and winked at me.

 

“Sure, Dad. That sounds like fun.”

 

I spent the rest of the bus ride brainstorming ways to seduce the pastor. I could come on strong, find some excuse to be alone with him and just drop trou. But I wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to fuck me, and I didn’t want to run the risk that he’d freak and tell my dad. If I was going to seduce him, I had to be cautious and feel him out. Plus with my dad on the trip, I had to take extra care not to let him know my intentions. After what happened with Kevin and Brock, I didn’t trust him to be within ten feet of Pastor Carl. Luckily, my dad tended to think with his dick instead of his brain, so I knew a little creative maneuvering could help me throw him off the scent.

 

All I needed to do was make Dad think I was interested in one of the other college boys, then I’d be free to pursue Pastor Carl while Dad was distracted. But who to pick? Levi wouldn’t work–he was too good of a friend and I didn’t want to fuck that up. Todd was hot enough, and he certainly had the sex drive I was looking for, but my dad would never buy it. That just left…

 

“Hey, Elijah!” I said cheerily when we got off the bus.

 

He turned to look at me, those pouty red lips parted in an “o” of surprise. “Oh… hey Leo. How’s it going?”

 

“Oh, you know. It’s going.” I dragged my bag behind me, making a show of how heavy it was.

 

“Are you having trouble?” he asked, eyeing my bag.

 

I put my hand on my cheek, feigning embarrassment. “Oh gosh. You must think I’m such a wimp. I thought I’d packed light, but…” I looked down at his beefy chest. “I guess I’m just not as strong and manly as you are.”

 

He swallowed. “Uh, I could carry it for you if you wanted.”

 

My eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, thank you so much! You’re such a gentleman.”

 

I gave him a kiss on the cheek, then dropped the bag on the ground with a big thud.

 

He picked it up and hefted it over his shoulder, his cross necklace swinging against his chest with the effort. I saw my father watching me warily, his jaw clenched tightly. I gave him a little wave and skipped along into the church.

 

We were staying at some old Baptist church in North Carolina, a great big building that sat empty during the week when it wasn’t Sunday. This would be our lodging until Friday when we would set off for Lake Laurie and camp until Sunday morning. The boys were staying in one of the preschool classrooms at the far end of the church, while the girls were staying in the parlor off of the sanctuary. As the male chaperone, my father would be staying with us, while the female chaperone would stay with the girls. Since my mother couldn’t come, the female chaperone was Mrs. Turnbright, Elijah’s mother. She was a cold, stern woman, and I could tell she didn’t think much of me after I came out of the closet. Well, her opinion of me was about to get a whole lot worse!

 

“Come pull your sleeping bag next to me, Elijah,” I said, patting the spot beside me.

 

He shot a look at Todd, then set his bag down on the floor next to mine.

 

“I just wanted to say, I really admire your faith,” I said, shaking my head in what I hoped was warm admiration. “You’re the only guy I know who really practices what you preach.”

 

He smiled, fingering his cross necklace. “Yeah.”

 

“I would love to pick your brain about a few things this week,” I said. “Like, what’s the deal with Job? God kept doing all that shit to him and he just took it. Was he stupid?”

 

We were interrupted by Todd, who dropped his sleeping bag next to Elijah’s. “Yo, you guys ready to get lit this week or what?” He unzipped his bag to show a small liter of vodka. “When the old folks go to sleep, I say we meet in the sanctuary. Bring the girls, get a little frisky. What do you say?”

 

Elijah frowned. “I don’t think so. We’re staying at a church. That feels… kinda wrong.”

 

Todd zipped his bag and blew a raspberry. “Boo. You guys are boring. I’m sure Levi’s with me, right dude?”

 

Levi was currently rifling through his bag. “Don’t bring me into this, man.”

 

Todd made a tsking sound. “Whatever. Y’all are just mad 'cause I’m the only one getting pussy.”

 

His eyes snapped up to the door when my dad entered, lugging a large duffel bag and an extra large sleeping bag. “Listen up, boys,” he said, swinging the door shut behind him. “I know you’re all adults, but when you’re under our roof, you abide by our rules. That means I don’t wanna see any purpling this week, you hear?”

 

Todd frowned. “Purpling?”

 

Dad grunted. “Boys are blue, girls are red. They don’t mix. We clear?”

 

The boys all nodded. Little did Dad know, however, that I intended to make a deep, dark shade of indigo.

 

The next day, they got us up at dawn to eat breakfast before heading out to work for the day. I made sure to slide in next to Elijah, chatting him up and laughing at all of his jokes (at least, I think they were jokes. It’s hard to tell with him). It didn’t seem to matter, as Dad kept glancing over at us.

 

Perfect. He was biting.

 

After breakfast, we piled into the rental vans. Dad pulled Elijah aside, saying, “Why don’t you ride in my van, son?” He put his arm around Elijah and rustled his hair. “I’d love to pick your brain about how the Bulldogs are doing this season.”

 

I stifled a smirk. Man, Dad was gullible. I hopped into the front seat of the other van, right beside Pastor Carl. The scent of his cologne was even stronger in the confined space, and I had to remind myself to breathe normally.

 

“Where are we going, today?” I asked.

 

“There’s a little old lady from the church who needs help cleaning out her basement. You ready for some heavy lifting?”

 

I pouted, leaning back. “I’m no good at all that. I’ve tried going to the gym but I just can’t get big. Not like you, Pastor Carl.”

 

He chuckled, his fingers drumming the wheel. “It just takes time. You’ve got the frame for it, though. Don’t give up too soon.”

 

I blinked, playing it up. “You really think so?” I pulled my legs up onto the seat, tucking them sideways. His eyes lingered, just for a second, on my thighs, smooth and pale against the dark interior.

 

“Definitely,” he said, his voice a little lower than before.

 

When we got there, an old lady with a bright smile was waiting for us outside the house.

 

“Oh, thank you all so much!” she said. “I don’t get down to the basement anymore, not since my husband passed.”

 

Pastor Carl clasped her hands gently, all warmth. “It’s our pleasure, Magdalene. We’re here to help.”

 

It may have been his pleasure, but it certainly was not mine. The basement was dank and mildewy and smelled like shit. Everything was caked in a layer of mold and I nearly gagged having to carry this shit outside. The only thing that kept me going was that Pastor Carl was wearing a tank top, which showed off his ridiculously buff and tan shoulders. His shirt left little to the imagination, revealing flexing muscles and more tattoos than I’d ever seen before. They crept underneath his shirt, invoking my curiosity. I donned a face mask and a pair of gloves, tried to breathe through my mouth, and concentrated on what it would be like to get in the pastor’s pants.

 

We worked for hours, breaking only for lunch. By the time we got home, I was so exhausted I could barely make it through dinner. I made a half-hearted attempt to flirt with Elijah a bit then crawled into my sleeping bag and passed out. 

 

The next day we went to a different house out in the country. This time some single mother needed us to paint a nursery, which required at least four coats of paint to cover up the hideous shade of burgundy underneath. It was another scorcher of a day and the lady was so poor she didn’t even have AC (ugh), so I was absolutely drenched by the time lunch came around.

 

We ate prepackaged sandwiches and chips at a picnic table in the backyard. Dad had already planted himself beside Elijah, so I sat down next to the pastor and opened my sandwich. The afternoon heat clung to him and I wondered what his balls must smell like.

 

“You did real good this morning, Leo,” he said, taking a big bite of his sandwich.

 

I shrugged. “Thanks. Like you said, it’s good to help out.”

 

“I know you said you had trouble growing muscle, but I think you look pretty good.”  He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “You’re growing into a pretty strong man.”

 

“Thanks,” I said, my voice cracking.

 

He wiped his hands and stood up. “Why don’t you take a walk with me?” He beckoned me with a casual nod, but there was something in his eyes that made my pussy throb.

 

My dad was deep in a conversation with Elijah, so I stood and followed him into the woods behind the house. The sun filtered through the trees, casting patches of light on the dirt path. We walked in silence for a while until we couldn’t see anyone else. It was hot and I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, but I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.

 

“It must be nice having your dad on this trip,” Pastor Carl said after a while, glancing over at me.

 

I snorted. “If by ‘nice’ you mean ‘annoying.’”

 

“I’m sure it’s tough for him, you going off to college so soon.”

 

I frowned. “It’s more than that. He’s too… protective, you know? Like he doesn’t want me to have a life, let alone a boyfriend.”

 

He raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at me. “Why do you think that?”

 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He just has a habit of getting up in my business, let’s say.”

 

We walked a little further, the air thick with humidity. Pastor Carl had his hands tucked behind his back, his shoulders flexing. They were covered in a thin sheen of sweat. God, I wanted to lick it off him so bad.

 

“So,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I know you said you don’t have a boyfriend, but do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Really?” he said, his tone surprised. “A good-looking guy like you… I figure you’d have your pick of admirers.”

 

I felt my cheeks heat up. “I guess. I don’t know, boys are complicated.”

 

Pastor Carl chuckled, his eyes never leaving me. “Yes, they are. Mind if I ask? What kind of guys do you like?”

 

I stopped walking. My throat tightened, but I met his gaze, my voice soft. “Lots of kinds. I’ve always liked a man’s man, you know? Someone with muscles… someone strong.”

 

His smile was lazy, almost teasing. “Yeah? You like the athletic type?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Guys like Elijah?” His tone was teasing, but there was a sharpness to it as well.

 

“No, no not at all,” I said firmly.

 

“You too seem to be getting close,” he said. “I wouldn’t blame you for-”

 

“I like older guys,” I said quickly.

 

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

 

I nodded. “I mean, not that I’ve ever… I mean…”

 

He laughed. “I know what you mean.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “What about tattoos? You like a guy with ink?”

 

I felt a stirring in my shorts. He was still smiling casually at me. The tension between us was thicker than the humidity, and I couldn’t tell if this conversation was innocent anymore–or if we’d already crossed the line.

 

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

 

“How about foreskin?”

 

I nearly tripped over a log at that point. We were definitely past the line now.

 

Pastor Carl laughed and put a hand out to steady me. “I only ask because when I was your age, guys used to make fun of me for being uncut. I was just curious if things had changed.”

 

My eyes flitted down to his package. I could see a faint outline under his basketball shorts. My mouth watered so much I had to swallow.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I love… foreskin.”

 

He smiled. “Nice. I used to be embarrassed about it, but the ladies tend to dig it. Good to know it’s the same for guys.”

 

“You mean, your wife, or…?” I asked slowly.

 

“Nah, she’s not about it. I had some girlfriends before her though…” He grinned. “Let’s just say I was kind of a wild teenager before I met her. Don’t get me wrong–she’s great, really. But we’ve been together a long time. You know how it gets.”

 

“That’s a shame.”

 

He sighed. “Married life is a blessing, for sure. Still, sometimes I miss the excitement of it all, you know? That feeling when you pull it out and she’s just… wild for it.”

 

I felt dizzy. Before I could say anything, Pastor Carl clapped me on the shoulder.

 

“Speaking of which, I gotta take a leak. Give me a sec, bud.”

 

He took a few steps away from me and stopped in front of a tree. A few seconds later I heard the sound of water hitting the ground. His back looked so broad facing away from me, his head tilted back slightly as he pissed.

 

“Hmmm…” He moaned slightly, closing his eyes as his face went slack.

 

If this wasn’t an invitation to take a peek, I didn’t know what the fuck was. I wavered for a moment before my curiosity got the better of me. I crept toward him and angled my head to sneak a peek.

 

His cock was long and thin, the piss shooting out from hooded, droopy foreskin. My jaw dropped as I took in the sight of it. His pubes were trimmed short so that only a thin layer of hair covered the area over his cock. He gave it a couple of shakes, causing droplets of piss to fling everywhere as his cock flopped about. I stared transfixed, salivating at the sight of his manhood. I took a mental snapshot for my spank bank and leaned backward, just in time for him to finish pissing and open his eyes.

 

His basketball shorts thwacked against his stomach as he tucked himself back in. “Well, shall we?”

 

When we got back to the house, my dad was standing there with his arms crossed.

 

“There you are, Leo,” he said sternly. “I was beginning to get worried.”

 

“That’s my fault, Jud.” Pastor Carl clasped his palms together and bowed his head slightly. “I was just giving Leo here a little spiritual guidance.”

 

Dad grunted. I didn’t like the look on his face–did he know about me and the pastor? If he was suspicious, all my efforts would be for nothing. I would have to double my efforts with Elijah going forward.

 

We spent the second part of the day painting the woman’s upstairs bathroom. I snagged a seat next to Elijah on the ride home, but my thoughts were consumed by Pastor Carl. Now that I was almost certain he was down to clown, all I needed was to find a way to get him alone. But how? We were surrounded by other people, and there was only so long we could be off by ourselves before someone (my dad) would get suspicious. The only real opportunity would be the camping trip when we would all be sharing tents in partners of two.  If I could only find a way to be paired with the pastor…

 

“Leo?”

 

I turned to see Elijah staring at me expectantly.

 

I smiled apologetically. “Sorry, what did you say?”

 

Elijah looked around cautiously, then said in a low voice, “What’s it like… being gay?”

 

I shrugged. “It’s fine. Kind of boring and men generally suck. How’s being straight?”

 

Elijah didn’t have a response to that. He blushed and sat back in his seat. “I was… I mean, I just thought… I’ve never met a gay person before,” he said quietly.

 

“Well, now you have,” I said dismissively. “They’re all exactly like me, so get used to it.”

 

I stared at my dad and Pastor Carl, who were sitting next to each other in the front of the van. They were in the middle of a conversation and my dad was laughing loudly.

 

“How did you know you were gay?” Elijah asked hesitantly.

 

I watched my dad carefully. “I don’t know. The usual. I looked at guys and thought about fucking them.”

 

I frowned as Dad let out another belly laugh. He was never this chummy with Pastor Carl back home–what was he playing at?

 

“But how did you know it wasn’t just a phase?” asked Elijah.

 

I sighed. “I suppose after a couple of years of jerking off to Randy Blue I figured it wasn’t a fluke. Plus I made out with Sebastian Smith freshman year and would have gone further if his mother wasn’t so damn punctual.”

 

I saw Dad put his hand on Pastor Carl’s shoulder and squeeze it affectionally. I felt the heat rise under my skin.

 

“What was that like?” Elijah asked, eyes wide.

 

“Jesus, what’s up with the third degree?” I snapped. “You like Jesus, I like gay sex. It’s not that complicated.”

 

I sat back in my chair, pulling out my headphones and trying to drown out my father’s boisterous laugh. Elijah was quiet for the rest of the ride back. As we climbed out of the van, I spotted Pastor Carl and my dad slipping off toward the church entrance. I was about to follow when I felt a sudden, firm grip on my shoulder.

 

“Leo, you’re just the boy I was looking for.”

 

Elijah’s mom looked at me with a grim smile on her face. “You’re on kitchen duty tonight. We’re making sloppy Joe’s.”

 

I looked back towards where my father and the pastor had been, but they’d disappeared.

 

“Could I just–”

 

“No no, I need you now,” she said sternly. “Follow me.”

 

Elijah appeared at my side, his eyes round and innocent. “Do you need any help?”

 

“No,” snapped his mother. “You can clean out the paint brushes from earlier. I need Leo focused on the kitchen. ”

 

Elijah looked at me for a moment, dejected, then headed back to the van to grab the paint supplies.

 

Inside, Mrs. Turnbright handed me a chopping board and some onions, watching me like a hawk as I sliced through them. “I don’t know what kind of discipline you’re used to from that father of yours, but in my kitchen, we keep things neat,” she said, flicking a stray onion peel off the counter. “Cleanliness is next to godliness, and I won’t have the likes of you soiling this church kitchen.”

 

I rolled my eyes. With such a cockblock of a mom, it was no wonder Elijah was so messed up. 

 

When I finally escaped the kitchen and made my way into the fellowship hall, I spotted Dad and Pastor Carl coming back inside.

 

“Dad!” I called out, crossing my arms. “Where have you been?”

 

“Oh, just catching up with my good friend Pastor Carl.” He rubbed my shoulder, his thick fingers kneading my skin. “What’s for dinner? Smells good.”

 

He walked past me toward the table as Pastor Carl took a seat at the other end. He didn’t look like he’d just had the living daylights fucked out of him, but I couldn’t know for certain. If Dad ruined this for me, I swear to God…

 

After dinner, we all gathered together to watch a movie in the parlor. A bunch of couches sat sprawled out across the room, with a few cushioned chairs peppered in between. While my dad got the TV set up, I squeezed my way in between Elijah and Pastor Carl on the couch.

 

“Dinner was excellent,” said Pastor Carl, flashing me that lazy, sexy smile.

 

“Thanks,” I said, my cheeks getting warm.

 

“Yeah Leo, I thought it was awesome,” Elijah said, grinning.

 

“Uh-huh,” I muttered.

“All right,” Dad announced. “Movie night’s on. This one’s a classic!”

I stifled a groan as black-and-white scenes flickered onto the screen. I was just about to recede into myself for the next hour and a half when Pastor Carl shifted closer and said, “I’m kind of cold. Want me to grab a blanket?”

It took me a second to realize what he was suggesting. I grinned. “I would love that.”

 

He grabbed a blanket from the closet and sat back down, draping it over the two of us. I snuggled into it, tucking my legs under the covers. After a moment, I felt Pastor Carl’s knee leaning up against mine. 

 

I turned to look at him, but his eyes were fixated on the screen. Testing the waters, I nudged my leg against his, feeling the rough hairs of his calf brushing against my smooth skin.

 

I snuck a glance at Dad across the room, relieved to see him engrossed in the movie. Inching closer under the blanket, I let my hand rest on Pastor Carl’s leg. It was warm and hairy, and I slowly rubbed back and forth against his thigh. Suddenly I felt his hand gripping mine tightly. I looked at his face, panicked, but he stared ahead completely calm. He slowly slid my hand up the leg of his basketball shorts, guiding me closer to the promised land. Holy shit! This was finally happening! 

 

I felt the hairs on his leg grow coarser the closer they got to his cock. My heart was pounding in my chest as I felt up the pastor, only a thin blanket shielding us from sight. I slid my hand up further up his leg, expecting to run into some cotton briefs or boxers, when I brushed up against something warm and spongy. Was that his dick? Was he going commando? I risked a quick glance at his face, but he was completely expressionless. Slipping my hand further inside, I wrapped my fingers around his cock and squeezed. This made him take a deep breath in, although he played it off like it was nothing. I stroked him softly underneath the blanket, careful not to move too quickly or conspicuously. I could feel him growing harder in my hand, his cock lengthening until it reached halfway toward his knee.

 

His foreskin was warm and loose in my hand. I remembered how delicious it had looked on our walk, hanging low with piss dribbling out of it. God, what I would have given to lean over and put it in my mouth. I pulled it back, unsheathing the head of his cock. He let out a low moan, which he quickly passed off as a cough. 

 

“Do that again,” he said under his breath.

 

I loosened my grip on his foreskin, then pulled it back to expose his cock once more. He shifted slightly in his seat, but I could tell he was suppressing some pretty stellar moans. Emboldened, I started stroking him a little faster.

 

I couldn’t believe I was actually jerking off my pastor–and in the middle of a room of churchgoers, no less! I looked around, but everyone was staring at the television, not paying us the least of mind. Everyone, that is, but my father. He was squinting at me, his eyebrow raised slightly in suspicion. I froze in shock, quickly letting go of the pastor’s cock.

 

Had he seen me? Did he know? If I got caught, I could kiss my fling with the pastor goodbye.

 

But then, as if handed down on a platter from God, a miracle happened.

 

“I’m feeling a little chilly too,” Elijah whispered in my ear. “Mind if I share the blanket, Leo?”

 

I smiled. “Of course!” I said sweetly.

 

He grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it over himself so that the three of us were all covered. My dad was still watching me as I rested my hand on Elijah’s leg.

 

Elijah turned and looked at me. “What… what are you doing?”

 

I shrugged. “Just trying to get comfortable. You don’t mind, right?”

 

“N-no…” he said softly.

 

I sat there for a moment, my left hand resting on the pastor’s leg while my right hand rested on Elijah’s. I could feel my dad’s eyes on me, but I stared straight ahead at the television, unfazed.

 

After a moment, I slid my hands a little higher up each of their legs. I could hear Elijah do a sharp intake of breath, but he said nothing. I kept my hands moving slowly, inch by inch, until finally my left hand was touching the pastor’s balls and my right was touching Elijah’s cotton boxer briefs.

 

Elijah shot me a look, his eyes bulging in fear. I could feel that he had a giant hard-on in his underwear–interesting. Perhaps he was gay after all? Or perhaps I was just that good at handjobs (never underestimate your own strength!). In any event, my dad was still staring at me, so I slid my hand underneath his boxer briefs and pulled out his cock. Elijah let out a light whimper, but other than that he kept it together. I never felt more powerful as I gripped the two cocks in my hands. Why else would God give me two hands unless he wanted me to jerk off two men at the same time? Unnatural desire my ass.

 

I stroked Pastor Carl and Elijah slowly but deliberately, savoring the feeling of their warm, hard cocks. I kept my strokes with Pastor Carl slow and subtle while not bothering to hide what I was doing to Elijah. How else would I throw my father off the scent? I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and I could see him staring at the moving blanket over Elijah’s crotch.

 

I stroked the two men faster, eager to get them off in front of my father. After the men he’d seduced out from underneath me, it felt like poetic justice to pleasure two men without him being able to do a thing about it. Both Pastor Carl and Elijah were breathing heavily, although Elijah wasn’t as able to mask it as well as Pastor Carl. After a few minutes, my fingers were slick with precum and Elijah was leaning back into the seat, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and anxiety.

 

I took a moment to explore the difference between their cocks. Pastor Carl was long and thin, his foreskin making it easier to stroke a load out of him. Elijah was circumcised but thick, and I could feel his bushy pubes with every stroke. I felt like a gay milkmaid, milking my two men to completion until they gave me their creamy white loads.

 

I could feel they were about to cum a second before they did. A ripple of tension ran through each of their cocks, then I felt wetness dripping through my fingers. I had brought them off together, at the same time! What a talent. I should go on the X-Factor, I really should. 

 

I gave both cocks a tight squeeze, milking the last dribbles of cum out of each of them. Dad was still staring at me, and he looked like he was steaming. I pulled my right hand out from underneath the blanket. It was sticky with cum. Looking my dad in the eye, I gave my palm a lick. To his credit, Dad didn’t look away as I cleaned Elijah’s cum off my hand. I would have gladly eaten Pastor Carl’s cum too, but then that would have defeated the purpose. Instead, I discreetly wiped my left hand on the inside of the blanket and curled up against Elijah.

 

“Wow,” he said breathlessly.

 

“I know,” I whispered.

 

I gave my dad one final wink, then settled in to watch the rest of the movie.

 

The next few days, Elijah and I didn’t get a second alone together. Dad was on him like a fly, sitting next to him at breakfast, riding with him in the van, asking for his help in the kitchen preparing dinner. That was just fine by me–it gave me plenty of time to schmooze up to Pastor Carl.

 

He didn’t let on about what happened at movie night, which was fine with me. I liked this game we were playing–the secrecy was half the fun. Plus I was pretty sure I would seal the deal that weekend during the camping trip. 

 

Everybody shared a tent with one other person: boys with boys, girls with girls. As the male chaperone, my father would share a tent with Pastor Carl, while Mrs. Turnbright would stay in a tent on her own. I was to be paired with Elijah, but I was more than confident that my father would find a way to intervene.

 

We left shortly after breakfast on Friday, making the long drive out to Lake Laurie. I spent the drive sitting next to Elijah, making sure to laugh loudly enough for my father to hear and to touch his arm plenty of times. Elijah’s face got pretty red during the drive, not really sure what that was all about. Maybe rosacea or something? Anyway, by the time we got to Lake Laurie, Dad was fuming and I was horny and Elijah looked like a nervous cat.

 

“So, where do you want to set up our tent?” he asked me once we’d pulled our bags out of the van.

 

“There’s been a change of plans,” said my Dad. 

 

He pulled a handle of vodka out of the car and looked at us sternly. “I found this in the trunk. Must have rolled out of one of y’alls bags.”

 

“It’s not mine, sir!” said Elijah, wide-eyed.

 

“No way to know whose it is for sure, son,” said Dad. “But I don’t trust either of you not to get into any mischief tonight. The only thing to do is split you up, keep a better eye on you.”

 

“Ugh, that’s so not fair, Dad!” I said, sounding as whiny as I could.

 

“Nothing to be done for it,” said Dad. “Elijah, you’ll be with me tonight. Leo, you’re with Pastor Carl.”

 

My face didn’t betray a hint of a smile. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, honestly. I put my hand on Elijah’s cheek and rubbed it with my thumb. “Oh well. Another time, I guess.”

 

Elijah looked at me forlornly, then grabbed his bag and followed my dad toward the campsite.

 

Pastor Carl shut the van door and walked up beside me. “Don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?” he asked.

 

I pretended to look offended. “I would never! I’m devastated–I was planning on sealing the deal tonight. Guess I’ll have to go to bed unsatisfied…”

 

I walked past him toward the campground, swaying my ass slightly. I didn’t need to look back to know he was staring after me.

 

We spent the late afternoon swimming in the lake. I was the only one who thought to pack a Speedo, a skimpy and tan-colored little number that made it look like I was naked from far away. I wanted to wear my mesh thong swimsuit, but Dad talked me out of it. All the other boys were wearing boring old board shorts that went down to the knees, although Pastor Carl at least wore ones with a five-inch inseam.

 

He kept his shirt on at first, talking to my dad and Mrs. Turnbright by the edge of the lake while the rest of us swam. I kept peeking over, trying to see if he was shirtless yet, when finally Todd yelled, “Yo, Pastor C! You guys coming in or what?”

 

Pastor Carl grinned, then shucked off his shirt and ran toward the water’s edge. I’d never seen him shirtless before, and damn did it take my breath away. He had a deep tan, his torso ripped and covered in a series of fine-line tattoos. I could also see a thin layer of hair covering his chest and abs, bleached slightly from the sun. He waded into the water, then flicked a little bit of it at me and grinned when I squealed.

 

“What was that for?” I asked.

 

“Just wanted to get your hair wet,” he said, grinning.

 

At that, he started to chase me, and I squealed again as I slipped away from him and swam as fast as I could in the other direction. Everyone else was doing their own thing, so no one paid us any attention as Pastor Carl and I played our little game of cat and mouse. Finally, he cornered me by the dock, grabbing my arm and pulling me in close to him.

 

“Caught you!” he said. His hands slipped around my waist, squeezing me softly. If my lower half wasn’t underwater, my boner would have been there for the whole world to see. As it was, we were mostly shielded under the dock, so no one could really see us anyway.

 

“Yeah?” I said peevishly. “What are you gonna do?”

 

I grabbed the bottom of his swimsuit and pulled him a bit closer. My fingers brushed against something hard, warm, and wet.

 

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Why don’t you ask me that again tonight?”

 

I giggled and pulled his head into the crook of my neck, moaning as I felt his lips nuzzling against me. His erection was digging into my leg, and it took everything in me not to slip out of my swimsuit and bend over right then and there. Even though we were mostly shielded by the dock, my dad was still lurking around somewhere.  I jerked my head around, trying to find him, but all I could see were a few of the other college kids splashing around a hundred yards away. No one was paying us any attention, not that they could have seen us behind the dock.

 

I was about to turn back so I could finally grab a taste of his hot mouth when I saw two figures emerging from the water onto the shoreline. Squinting, I could just barely make out my dad’s burly frame lumbering onto the sand, his arm wrapped around Elijah as he tousled the boy’s red hair.

 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” moaned Pastor Carl. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his waist, then slid his hands underneath my bathing suit to squeeze my ass.

 

I watched my father lead Elijah away from the lake. They soon slipped through the trees and were gone from sight. Where the fuck were they going?

 

I felt the tips of Pastor Carl’s fingers brush up against my hole. He was just about to slip one inside when I unwrapped my legs from around him and pushed him backward.

 

“One sec,” I said, turning and swimming to shore.

 

“Where are you going?” he called after me, his voice tinged with annoyance.

 

“I’ll be right back, I promise!”

 

By the time I got to the shoreline, I couldn’t see my father or Elijah anywhere. Mrs. Turnbright was sitting on a beach chair, nose-deep in The Purpose Driven Life.

 

“Excuse me,” I said. “Did you see my dad go past?”

 

She glanced at my cute bubble butt hanging out of my speedo and scowled. “I’m not your father’s keeper.”

 

I refrained from calling her the C-word and kept walking away from the lake. The parking lot was only a few minutes away. Maybe they went back to grab something from the car? But when I got there, there was no one around.

 

Where could they have gone? We hadn’t set up our tents yet. The campsite was supposed to be a few minutes north of the lake, but I didn’t know exactly where. Could my father be doing what I thought he was doing? I couldn’t see how. Elijah was as straight and religious as they come. I mean, aside from my amazing handjob. But there’s no way he would fuck my dad! Even so, a part of me needed to know if it was true.

 

I looked up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine which way was to the north. Let’s see… the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, so the north must be somewhere off in the opposite direction of the lake. I set off, determined to see if my suspicions were true.

 

After about ten minutes of walking, I couldn’t find anything that looked like a campsite, let alone a path. I pressed on though, determined to catch my father in the act if I could. I walked for another ten minutes before I noticed the sun getting a little low in the sky. Wherever they were, I wasn’t going to find them by just wandering aimlessly around. Frustrated, I decided to throw in the towel and turn back.

 

After about five minutes of walking, I suddenly realized that I had no recognition of where I was. I should have just walked through here, right? Then why did everything look so unfamiliar? I turned ninety degrees and walked for about five more minutes, trying to see if I could see anything I recognized.

 

Nothing. Everywhere I looked was the same dense collection of trees, dried brush, and foliage. I could barely make out the sun anymore. I walked for an hour, no longer caring about the direction I was going in but determined to find my way to some semblance of civilization. Even a road I would have been grateful for! I was also painfully aware that I was wearing nothing but a Speedo, although luckily it was warm enough that I wasn’t freezing. Still, I was getting plenty scratched by the trees and branches that whipped past me. Why did being such a dumb slut have to come back and bite me in the ass? God really does save his hardest struggles for his strongest warriors.

 

By the time night fell, I was almost delirious. “You guys!” I shouted every few seconds. “Dad! Pastor Carl! Elijah!”

 

Nobody answered. It was just me and the sound of crickets, lost in the neverending forest. I made my way by the faint glint of the moon, hoping I didn’t die a lonely, homosexual virgin (in fucking North Carolina of all places).

 

Finally, after what felt like an entire evening of wandering but was likely only a couple of hours, I saw a faint glow of light through the trees. I emerged onto a clearing dotted with tents. I rapped on the outside of one of them, calling out frantically, “Hello! Is anyone in there?”

 

After a moment, the tent unzipped and Mrs. Turnbright’s ugly face peered out at me. “There you are!” she said angrily. “Where the hell have you been?”

 

“I got lost,” I said, trying to wipe the mud off my arms.

 

She pursed her lips. “Well, don’t expect me to help you clean up. Showers are that way. Try not to get lost again on your way, hmm?”

 

She zipped her tent back up. I walked over to the outdoor shower and turned it on, scrubbing the mud and dirt that had caked into my skin. I didn’t have a towel with me, so I was forced to walk dripping with water until I found my tent. Pastor Carl must have set it up without me, although he’d chosen a place that was way off from everyone else. I smiled with relief. Good–he was thinking ahead. I was all scratched up and my feet were killing me, but I could do with a good dicking down after everything I’d endured.

 

But before I could reach to unzip the tent, I heard a loud groan come from within.

 

“Fuck… oh yeah, just like that.”

 

My face turned white. It couldn’t be… could it? With trembling fingers, I reached for the zipper and pulled it open just a few inches.

 

The first thing I saw was Elijah’s broad shoulders, pale and freckled. He was facing away from me, the top of his head tilted slightly backward and his eyes closed in intense concentration. My father was a few feet away from him, sitting back on his heels as he knelt on the ground. He was also shirtless, his big, hairy chest covered in a sheen of sweat.

 

What the fuck were they doing? And why in my tent, of all places?

 

Then I heard a loud gagging sound as my father said, “Give him a little more. That’s it, he can take it.”

 

I unzipped the tent a little wider, my eyes growing wide as I saw Pastor Carl in between them. The man was crouched on all fours, naked as the day he was born. My father’s cock was buried balls-deep in his asshole, while Elijah’s cock was engulfed in his mouth. Every thrust of my father’s sent him further down Elijah’s cock, his nose buried in the boy’s fiery red pubes.

 

“Oh God,” moaned Elijah. “It feels so good.”

 

“Doesn’t it?” said Dad. “I told you, there’s nothing like a little bonding between men. It’s a tale as old as time.”

 

“But… I mean, isn’t this… wrong?”

 

Dad snorted. “It wasn’t wrong when you were letting my son jerk you off the other night, was it?”

 

Elijah blushed. “I don’t… That wasn’t-”

 

“I’m just fucking with you, boy!” My dad roared with laughter. “Look, I’m sure our heavenly Father has better things to do than worry about whose dick goes where. If Pastor Carl’s mouth wasn’t full of cock, he would agree with me.”

 

I could see Pastor Carl’s eyes, dull with lust and pleasure. He grabbed Elijah’s ass and pulled him closer, taking his cock deeper into his throat.

 

“Oh, shit,” moaned Elijah.

 

For as much as I pride myself on being a slut, Pastor Carl had me beat by a mile. He was arching his back like he took cock for a living, meeting my father’s thrusts with vigor. The way he bobbed his head on Elijah’s cock, slurping and sucking like his life depended on it, made me think that this was hardly his first time being used by men.

 

“If you’re going to watch, you might as well come in,” said my father suddenly.

 

My stomach dropped. Had he seen me? Was it too late for me to run away? No, the jig was up. I unzipped the tent and stepped inside, zipping it closed behind me.

 

Elijah turned his head, his ass cheeks clenching as he spotted me. “Leo! What… what are you doing here?”

 

I folded my arms petulantly. “Last I checked this was my tent, Elijah. What the hell are you guys doing?”

 

Dad spanked Pastor Carl, then pulled the man’s arms back like the reigns of a horse, yanking him away from Elijah’s cock. “What’s it look like, son?”

 

Pastor Carl didn’t even seem to acknowledge my presence. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hard cock swinging back and forth as my father pummeled his asshole.

 

“Fuck me, sir,” he moaned, his words slurring with lust.

 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again!” I whined. “How did you even know about us?”

 

Dad grabbed the Pastor by the hips and picked up the pace of his thrusts, battering the man’s colon and eliciting a long, low moan.

 

“You’re not as slick as you think you are, son.” Dad smirked. “Your little flirtation on the bus? Long walks, just the two of you? Jerking him off under that blanket? Come on–give me at least a little credit.”

 

“But what about Elijah?” I asked, gesturing to the college boy who was watching my father fuck Pastor Carl in something approaching religious awe.

 

Dad laughed. “Elijah here’s just a little curious. Since you barely gave him the time of day, outside of fake flirting and handjobs, I told him to come by Pastor Carl’s tent and see what kind of fun two men can get up to together.”

 

Elijah was staring at Pastor Carl’s dick, his mouth hanging open slightly. “Sir,” he said slowly, “do you think I could…”

 

“Go on, speak up, boy,” said Dad.

 

Elijah swallowed. “Can I… suck his dick?”

 

Dad looked at Pastor Carl. The man had a dopey grin on his face, his eyes closed in bliss. “Deeper…” he murmured. “Deeper…”

 

“I think that’s about as fine of a green light as you’re gonna get,” said Dad as he resumed his thrusts.

 

Elijah dropped to the ground, his face sliding closer to the pastor’s swinging cock. He watched his balls swing hypnotically, eyes following them back and forth like a pendulum. He stuck his tongue out, gently lapping one of the pastor’s testicles. He grinned. “It tastes good,” he said sheepishly.

 

As I watched Elijah suck one of Pastor Carl’s balls into his mouth, it struck me that I should be the one with the pastor’s genitals in my mouth. Me, not Elijah! Yet here I was, once again being cuckolded by my own father, not to mention the boy next door. Resigned, I sat back against the tent, pulled my cock out of my Speedo, and watched the show unfold.

 

Elijah took the head of Pastor Carl’s dick into his mouth, causing the man to groan and his head to loll forward. Dad gripped Pastor Carl by the shoulders, still ramming that thick meat stick deep into the man’s bowels. I tugged on my cock in the corner, equally aroused and infuriated by the events unfolding before me.

 

Elijah bobbed his head up and down on Pastor Carl’s cock, swirling his tongue around the man’s foreskin and grinning stupidly as he drank the man’s precum. My father watched him proudly, his eyes gleaming. After a few minutes of fellatio, he grabbed Elijah by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss. The boy opened his mouth and received Dad’s tongue willingly, swapping spit with my father as Pastor Carl drooled in between them. After a moment, Dad broke the kiss, then turned Elijah’s head toward Pastor Carl. I watched in astonishment as the pastor and the college boy began to make out, frenching like star-crossed lovers.

 

When Elijah broke the kiss, the look he gave my dad was immediately understood. Without a word, Dad pulled his cock out of Pastor Carl, moving to the side to allow Elijah to take his place. Dad’s cock was wet with the pastor’s juices, still rock hard with that slight upward curve I had unfortunately become quite familiar with over these last few cucking sessions. Elijah’s cock wasn’t nearly as big as my father's, but it was just as hard and throbbing. He gripped Pastor Carl’s ass cheek with one hand, using the other to guide himself into the man’s well-used hole. Pastor Carl grunted, at which point my dad took the opportunity to shove his cock back inside the man’s mouth.

 

Elijah had a wild grin on his face as he fucked Pastor Carl, swinging his hips back and forth with reckless abandon. Dad gave him gentle pointers as he went along, encouraging him to pull the pastor’s hair and find just the right angle to hit the man’s prostate. All the while Elijah was growing bolder and sweatier, losing his grip on the pastor’s hips as his sweat trickled down his stomach and landed on the pastor’s thick, rippling ass.

 

“Oh my God, sir,” he said breathlessly. “It feels so… so warm and wet and… fuck!”

 

I had never heard Elijah curse before. Then again, I had never seen him fuck someone, let alone a man, so I assumed he was well past the point of caring about trivial things such as profanity.

 

“I’m proud of you, boy,” said my father. He grabbed Elijah by the back of the head and leaned their foreheads together, a strangely sweet moment in the midst of Eiffel Towering the local pastor.

 

I felt a moment of sadness as I watched them share Pastor Carl. I’m proud of you, boy. I couldn’t remember the last time Dad had told me he was proud of me. Is this what he wanted? To share another man with me, to teach me how to be the kind of top he was? Or maybe he didn’t want me there at all. Maybe he’d rather have Elijah as a son, the perfect, All-American boy. 

 

Before I could ponder it any further, Elijah let out a long groan.

 

“Oh God, sir. I think… I’m gonna… oh, fuck!”

 

His eyes grew wide as he pumped his seed deep inside Pastor Carl. Dad pulled his cock out of the pastor’s mouth and started stroking it rapidly, grinning.

 

“That’s it, boy. Fill ‘im up!”

 

Elijah was shaking as his seed drained out of him. Pastor Carl barely seemed to notice, staring up at my father’s big cock with a look of complete wonder. Dad was jerking it an inch from the pastor’s face, and before Elijah had finished cumming, he let out a loud roar.

 

Large gobs of semen shot out of my dad’s cock, painting the pastor’s face like melting wax. Pastor Carl opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue to taste as much semen as he could. I saw a few spurts land in his mouth, but most of it landed on his forehead, nose, and eyebrows. It dripped down his face and fell to the floor in slow, steady rivulets.

 

Dad wiped his cock on the pastor’s face as the man greedily sucked on the tip.

 

I could feel my own orgasm approaching. Boldly, I approached Pastor Carl, my cock pulsing in my hand.

 

“What’s this, son?” asked my dad.

 

“Ugh… fuck. Take that, Pastor Carl!” 

 

I shot my load into his hair, coating his thick hair in my stick seed. It dripped down his face, joining my dad’s cum. Pastor Carl kept his tongue out, lapping up the last few spurts of my seed as my orgasm slowed.

 

Dad put a sweaty, sticky hand on my shoulder. “Well done, son. It’s good to see taking a page out of your old man’s book.”

 

I blushed, my cheeks glowing with pride. I tucked my cock back into my speedos. “What… what now?”

 

Dad shot a look at Pastor Carl drooling on the ground, then at Elijah, now awkward in his nakedness. “I think Pastor Carl and I have a few more things we want to show your friend here. Why don’t you go ahead and take my tent and we’ll see you in the morning?”

 

I frowned. “But-”

 

“Don’t talk back, now,” said Dad.

 

I looked at Elijah, who was blushing as if he didn’t just plow the shit out of a man twice his age right in front of me. Pastor Carl had been used and soiled so thoroughly that I knew I had even less chance of getting fucked by him than his poor wife did.

 

Dejected, I turned to leave. 

 

“Oh,” said Dad as I reached the tent flap. “And don’t tell your mother.”