The Homeowner’s Son: Open House
Copyright© 2026 by StankDaddyReeks
Chapter 7: Thursday Night – Father and Son
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 7: Thursday Night – Father and Son - Nineteen-year-old Jack thought the construction workers renovating his father’s house were just there to do a job. He was wrong. What starts as lingering stares and crude comments quickly escalates into something much filthier — sweaty, raw, and addictive. Behind closed doors, Jack finds himself pulled deeper into the crew’s world… and into his own family’s darkest desires. A story of blue-collar lust, gangbangs, breeding, and forbidden craving.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Reluctant Gay Fiction Incest Son Brother Father Uncle Nephew Gang Bang Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration Facial Oral Sex
The drive home was dead silent.
Ethan sat in the passenger seat of his dad’s truck, staring out the window. In the back seat, his uncle Carl was equally quiet. Richard gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. The cab still smelled faintly of sweat, cum, and sex from the long day at Jack’s house. No one said a word about it.
They pulled into the driveway of Richard’s modest two-story house just after 6 PM. The three of them walked inside like robots, kicking off their boots in the mudroom, filling the air with the musky stink of foot-sweat.
“Pizza tonight?” Richard asked gruffly, voice strained.
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Carl muttered.
Ethan just nodded, avoiding eye contact with both of them.
Dinner was painfully normal. They ate pepperoni pizza at the kitchen table, talking about sports, the weather, and how the deck was coming along. Every sentence felt forced. Ethan’s ass still ached. He could feel dried cum in his crack every time he shifted in his chair. His dad kept glancing at him, then quickly looking away. Carl had a strange, knowing smirk he kept trying to hide.
After dinner they settled in the living room to watch a baseball game. The tension was suffocating. Ethan sat on the recliner, his dad on the couch, Carl sprawled in the other chair. No one mentioned Jack. No one mentioned what they had done to him---or what Ethan had done right alongside him.
Around 10:30 PM, Richard stood up. “I’m heading to bed. Long day tomorrow.”
“Night,” Ethan mumbled.
“Night,” Carl echoed.
The house grew quiet.
Ethan lay in his old bedroom, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep. His body was sore, his mind racing. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his dad’s cock sliding into Jack’s mouth ... and remembered how it felt and tasted in his own.
Around 2:17 AM, Ethan heard the soft creak of his bedroom door opening.
He sat up slightly. His dad stood in the doorway in just a pair of gray boxer briefs, silhouetted by the hallway light. Richard’s broad, hairy chest rose and fell heavily. He didn’t speak at first. He just stared at his son.
“Dad...?” Ethan whispered, voice shaky.
Richard stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly. “You?”
Ethan shook his head. The air felt electric.
They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.
“I saw how you looked at him,” Richard finally said, voice low. “At Jack. Today.”
Ethan’s face burned. “Dad, I—”
“And I saw how he looked at you.” Richard took another step closer. “You liked it.”
Ethan’s cock twitched traitorously under the sheets. “I ... I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
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