WARNING: This story is a product of imagination; it is not a depiction of real life. It involves sexual acts between two or more males of the human species. If you are offended by that idea or its explicit description, regardless of whether it's the act that offends you, or the age or relationship of the participants, don't read this story. If writing about any type of sex between males is illegal in your nation, or in your particular municipality, county, state, province, or other political subdivision, don't read this story. If your age makes it illegal to read this story, don't read this story.
Copyright© 1997 by Marc Tremaine. All rights reserved. You have the right to download this story to keep on your computer, and to print a hard copy if you preserve the title, warning and copyright notice. You do not have the right to otherwise reproduce or repost this story. You do not have the right to rewrite this story. You do not have the right to use this story to make any amount of money for yourself or anyone else. If you do not understand these rights as I have listed them for you, my address is above: ask before acting.
Harry looked at himself in the full-length mirror. Not bad for a guy with a teenaged son! He hefted the bulging pouch of his jock-strap and watched his right hand squeeze his meat and balls. He was a little over six feet tall, with a broad muscular chest covered with curly golden hair that tapered down in a v-shape to his navel. And then there was the darker gold of his crotch hair, thick and soft, although mostly hidden by the white jock. Turning around, he looked over his shoulder at the rippling muscles on his deeply tanned back and the sharp white line well below his waist, and slanting across his hefty butt cheeks from the skimpy swimming suit he wore. Yeah, not bad at all.
Only he couldn't stand around admiring himself. He and Alan were going to play tennis, then take a quick shower together and go out for dinner. He looked around for his tennis clothes, which Alan was supposed to have run through the wash and have ready for him. Nothing in sight. Fuck! I can't play tennis in a jock and shoes.
Alan hadn't answered when Harry got home, so maybe he was already at the courts waiting, and had left his dad's clothes in his room. Alan wasn't exactly the neatest kid on the block. Harry padded barefoot and silently down the hallway. That was funny. He could have sworn Alan's bedroom door was closed when he got home, and now it was partially open. It was just as he was pushing the door open that he heard a low voice moaning, "Oh, yeahhhhh, stud, suck that hole."
Harry froze in the doorway for a moment. It was only long enough for taking a mental snapshot of the scene, but that one "photo" was enough to send him charging toward the bed. His thirteen-year-old son was laying on the bed, his legs in the air, and some naked man was kneeling in front of him, sucking and licking on the boy's asshole. But not for long! Harry grabbed him by the shoulder, yanked him away from Alan's ass and shoved him halfway across the room. And then he froze again, instead of starting to beat the shit out of the pervert. He was looking at his son.
Alan lay on his back, with his sleekly-muscled, golden-tanned arms taut as his hands gripped the backs of his knees and his inner thighs to lift and spread his white, white butt up in the air. Alan's head was on a pillow, his long sun-bleached hair fanned out against it, staring up at his father and then looking down again at the rampant teenaged stud prick standing up between his legs. Harry's eyes were drawn to that sight, and then down to the low-hanging balls, and further down to the pink ass pucker that was shining with spit. Harry watched as Alan contracted his asshole and then slowly relaxed it. Some spit oozed out and started to slide down his ass crack.
Harry hadn't really realized what a gorgeous, sexy stud his son was. That is, if you looked at him objectively, and not as a father. Objectively speaking--of course!--Harry could see why some disgusting pervert faggot might get the hots for that slender body with the long fat dick; why some sicko might want to eat out that shiny ass pucker and play with his own man dick until it got really hard, and then drop some spit on it, and try to get as much as possible up that tiny little hole. Yeah, one of the fags at the office had said there wasn't anything like a hot tight male butthole, and surely a young boy's hole, like Alan's, would be hotter and tighter than anyone else's. Harry shook himself mentally and brought his attention back to reality.
Well, hot stud or not, no faggot was going to make any moves on his son. Harry turned toward the man on the floor and suddenly recognized him. It was David Johnson, an English teacher at the high school! And he wasn't acting like he was afraid of the beating he was about to get. He just lay there, his right hand firmly holding his still-hard dick, playing with himself, and his left hand pinching his tits. The teacher stared up at Harry, licked his lips, and then blatantly looked at the well-filled jock which was all that Harry was wearing. David licked his lips again, even more lasciviously. Harry started forward only to find his way blocked by Alan.
Alan stood in front of him, still sporting a rigid prick, and with both hands up, palms forward. Harry couldn't quite stop himself in time, and wound up with the palms of Alan's hands on his nipples--which got instantly hard! Harry had big nipples on hard-muscled pecs, and Alan began lightly moving his hands in a circular motion on his dad's nipples. He liked hard nipples. He liked hard cock, too. He thrust his hips forward so that the tip of his precum-oozing dick rested against Harry's jock-pouch.
Harry almost stopped breathing! Not only were his nipples hard and aching for someone to work them over, but his dick was painfully hard in his jock. "Uh, look..." He tried to back up, to get some breathing space and regain control of the situation, but Alan just moved with him. Only this time, Alan's left hand was twisting and tweaking Harry's right nipple, while Alan's right hand was squeezing and playing with the bulge in his father's jock, and then both of Alan's hands were sliding down his dad's sides to the top strap of the jock, and pulling it wide and out and then down over his butt cheeks, with Alan's hands squeezing and fondling and then further down, while Alan's warm breath and moist tongue caressed his stomach, and then Harry's raging hardon was standing up and free, while his jock lay around his ankles ... and his young son's mouth closed down on Harry's rigid meat, deep throating the thick cock so that the boy's nose was buried in his dad's musky crotch hair.
Harry just stood there, completely helpless before the erotic sensations washing over him. This was sick; it was disgusting; it was illegal; it left him open to blackmail since there was someone watching them ... only it wasn't just watching any more. Now there was a second set of hands, a man's strong hands, on his shoulders, kneading them, and he could feel a naked smooth chest against his back and a stud prick pressed up against his butt. With one last stroke of his dad's cock deep into his mouth and throat, Alan licked the precum dripping tip of his dad's rod, and then stood up, so that his dad's hard dick was pressed up against his son's stomach and chest, while Alan's prick slid in between his dad's thighs. Alan twisted harder on both his dad's tits, causing Harry to lean back in the embrace of the man behind him and moan.
And then Alan was pulling his dad's head down and pressing his soft, moist boy lips against his father's, forcing his dad's lips open so that Alan's tongue could dart deep inside, all the while he was grinding his belly against his dad's prick. While father and son were kissing, the teacher was working Harry's nipples, and playing with his butt, and reaching between the two to squeeze Harry's aching prick, and smear Harry's precum around.
Alan broke off the kiss and he and David moved away from Harry. He opened his eyes in a daze. Harry couldn't believe what was happening! Five minutes ago he had been an ordinary father looking forward to a game of tennis with his son, and now this! He was standing in his son's bedroom, naked, his nine-inch prick harder than it had ever been in his life, dripping precum in a steady stream, his chest heaving with lust as he stared at his naked young boy, and the equally naked slender teacher who were casually playing with each other's dicks as they watched Harry.
"Like it so far, dad?"
"Shit, pop, I've been wanting this most of my life. David, here, just helped me figure out how to get it."
Harry almost stopped breathing again. And scenes flashed across his mind. Alan as a very young boy, always wanting to climb in bed with him and sleep naked together, Alan's hand "innocently" resting on his dad's crotch, while Harry tried not to get hard. Only sometimes he didn't succeed, and Harry just lay there with Alan's hand stroking his stiff meat, until with a stifled moan he finally spurted a fountain of steaming cum on himself and his "sleeping" boy. He had told himself he got the hardon just because someone was touching his dick and he hadn't been laid in a while. Then there was Alan walking in on him when he was in the bathroom, pissing or shitting, and watching him. Alan staring at him when they were changing clothes at the tennis club. And all those twitches of his dick and the hollowness of lust in his own belly, whenever that happened ... feelings he wouldn't admit to having.
And now he could admit to having them. Harry smiled back at the pair and began stroking his meat, although he couldn't have gone soft now anyway, even without playing with himself. He was too horny and too eager for whatever was coming next.
Alan knew what was coming next. So did David. David got on the low bed on his knees, his firm masculine butt in the air. Harry watched as Alan bent over and slobbered spit into the dark brown butthole, and then Alan pulled his dad closer, and began sucking his father's prick. Harry thought he might come any second, but all Alan was doing was getting it sloppy with spit.
"You ever fucked butt, dad?"
"Uh ... no."
Alan just smiled as he guided his father's slimy prick to David's ass. "David likes having his ass crammed full of hard meat, Dad. I think you ought to oblige."
"But, I thought..."
"Yeah, I know, but I like pimping for a hot stud like this one. David's a hot stud, isn't he, dad?"
Harry looked down at the slender man, and almost helplessly watched as Alan began pressing his dad's fat dickhead against David's eager butthole, which opened with the pressure, and then Harry was feeling the head of his dick slide into his first male ass. And watching it slide in, smoothly, the ass walls slick and hot and gripping him tightly, just like the guy at the office had said. Harry sighed as he put his hands on David's hips and began shoving all nine hard inches into the man's butt.
"Yeah, son, a fucking stud."
"Good, dad, just start pumping that hot stud fuckhole. Move that prick up inside him; make him feel it good!"
Harry did, and David moaned loudly. Harry stopped but David quickly begged him to keep on moving and to shove it in good and hard. Harry wasn't sure how long he could last with a fuck channel so moist and tight and so eager to pull all the cum out of his balls. He was even less sure when he felt soft young boy hands spreading his butt cheeks apart, and felt Alan's tongue lapping and moistening his own butthole. Then there was something hard and wet pressing against his hole.
"Alan! No. I, I've never..."
"You can take it, stud-daddy." Alan breathed warmly against his father's back, as he used one hand to play with his dad's tits, and the other to guide his rod toward the tightly clamped virgin hole. "You got your stud dick crammed inside a hot tight manhole, and now you're gonna lose your cherry to stiff young boy prick. What a way to cum!"