The Son Seduction Trap
Copyright© 2025 by Chris X
Chapter 17
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 17 - Attend curiosity leads to adult websites which causes a moral dilemma for himself an online friend turns into more sexual boundaries are pushed the under limits. A journey into knowing oneself.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt Drunk/Drugged Rape BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Incest Mother Son Father DomSub Humiliation Rough Interracial White Male White Female Hispanic Male Indian Male Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Hairy Revenge Violence AI Generated
The silence in the room is a living thing, thick and humming with the weight of everything that’s just been said. My father’s knees press into mine, a solid, warm pressure that feels more intimate than any touch I’ve ever known. His dark eyes are fixed on the tent in my sweatpants, and the air he exhales is warm against my face.
“Where were we?” He repeats, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my bones.
My mind is a frantic, screaming mess, but my body ... my body is a traitor. It responds to his commanding presence, to the raw, masculine energy rolling off him. My cock, already half-hard from my interrupted session, throbs painfully, swelling to its full, aching length under his intense scrutiny. I can’t form words. I can only stare, my breath catching in my throat.
A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. He leans back slightly, his gaze traveling from my lap up to my terrified eyes. “You were telling me what you feel when you’re with her.” He cocks his head. “But perhaps showing is better than telling.”
His hand, the one that was just on my shoulder, moves. It doesn’t rush. It’s a slow, deliberate descent through the air between us. I watch, mesmerized, as his fingers, strong and capable, come to rest on my thigh. The heat of his palm soaks through the thin grey cotton, branding me.
“Is this what he does?” Edward murmurs, his thumb beginning a slow, circular massage on my inner thigh, inching higher with each pass. “Carlos? Does he touch you here?”
I swallow hard, a dry, painful click in my throat. “Sometimes,” I whisper.
“And do you like it?” His thumb presses down, a fraction harder, and my hips twitch involuntarily.
“Y-yes.”
“And what about your mother?” His voice is pure curiosity, like a scientist dissecting a fascinating new specimen. “When she knelt for you in that closet ... when she took you in her mouth ... what did that feel like?”
The memory, combined with the feel of his hand so close to where I’m straining, is overwhelming. A low groan escapes me. “It was... intense. The danger ... knowing you were right there...”
“Ah, the danger,” he echoes, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “The thrill of the forbidden. Of being caught.” His thumb sweeps upward again, and the very tip of his finger brushes against the swollen head of my cock through the fabric.
A violent shudder racks my entire body. Oh god.
“She’s always craved danger,” he continues conversationally, as if we’re discussing the weather and not my illicit encounters with his wife. His fingers curl, his knuckles now applying a firm, delicious pressure along my length. “A little rebellion. I suppose I provided too much stability.” He smiles wryly. “But you ... you and your policeman ... you provided the excitement.”
His grasp tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me gasp. He’s outlining me, learning my shape through the fabric. “You’re certainly ... equipped, son. I can see the appeal.”
The endearment, spoken in that dark, hungry tone, sends a fresh wave of confusion and heat crashing through me. My head falls back against the chair, my eyes squeezing shut. I can’t process this. I can’t.
“Look at me, Adam.”
The command is soft but absolute. I force my eyes open. He’s leaning forward again, his face close to mine. His other hand comes up and cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my jawline. The duality of it—one hand gentling me, the other fondling me—shatters my last defenses.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Not your desires. Not your body. Let me see.”
His hand on my thigh moves to the waistband of my sweatpants. He hooks his fingers into it, his knuckles brushing my burning skin. He pauses, his eyes asking a silent question.
I give a tiny, jerky nod, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
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