We had a black chair designed specifically to take cocks up the ass and in the mouth simultaneously, and comfortably. We make sure to wash it after every session because it’s often where we finish, meaning it gets the rough end of the storm.
My father never asked me if I wanted supper before his friends came over. Once they arrived, they would get to eat and drink whatever they wanted. I watch them slobber over steaks, excavate their mashed potatoes, and wash it all down with pints of blond. And, well, it made sense. Eating sounded like a bad idea on my end.
I was going to be full after tonight anyways.
“Evan,” Francis shouted from the table. He was the boldest of Dad’s friends, and had the loudest mouth, too.
“What?” I kept my eyes glued to Jeopardy, not turning my head. Not cause I didn’t like him, but because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of my full attention.
“Would you rather,” he continued, “Plow the dean of your school every day for a whole semester, just to pay that semester’s tuition…”
He was an idiot. And that fired me up.
“Or, get plowed by Daddy every day for an entire semester’s worth of straight-A’s.”
It was then that I turned to Francis, with his toothy grin, and to my father, who tried to hide his menace well. But I caught it. He flares his nostrils any time he thinks wrong things about me, and that’s how I know there’s something stirring under his belt-buckle.
Then I thought about the question, which might as well have been rhetorical. Francis was not good at fucking around but he did it regardless.
“Is that even a question Francis?” I asked him, but before he could quip back I continued, “I know you didn’t go to school, and value your grades at all. In fact, you probably failed woodshop which is a fake class designed to boost a student’s overall average. But you?” I laughed, “You, Francis, couldn’t tell a buzz saw from a table clamp before you were twenty.”
Dad had already been boiling up with laughter when he let out a roar, squinting and heaving and leaning back in his seat.
“Fuck off, Evan,”
“And,” I added. “Who got you that silly orange vest you’re wearing?”
Dad stopped laughing to proclaim his pride, “That’s me! I did!” Slapping his palm on the table.
The air settled in the room while Francis finished mumbling and I resumed watching Jeopardy.
“Where are they?” Dad said out loud, getting up from the table to peak outside. Phil and Ryan were already 20 minutes past the 20 minutes of delay we normally give them, as they’re the ones closing the site on Fridays.
“Should we just get started, then?” Francis piped. If there’s one thing I loved Francis for it was his inability to keep his dick in his pants. I normally ended up swallowing him first.
“Shut up,” I said. “Give them another five minutes.”
So we did. Five minutes passed and they hadn’t arrived. Even my dad and I were starting to get agitated, twisting and turning in our seats, so we all silently agreed it was time and stood up.
The button on my pants was seconds away from bursting free and knocking someone out. My dad grabbed my right hand and moved to lead me down the stairs when the doorbell rung.
“Finally,” we all said at once. Dad let go of me and went to open the door. He greeted and invited them in, shutting the door behind them. They both still had their work vests on.
Phil and Ryan contributed a lot to the chemistry of our group. Before, when it was just Francis and Dad and I, the fun was usually vanilla, only sometimes meddling with the dark arts. Worst we ever did alone was some pissing and handcuffing. But with them? The game changed completely. They taught us sorcery to intensify our experiences. Sex, they stressed, should be an acquired taste. The best methods according to them take time to practice and perfect.
So my father and I, with the help of Phil and Ryan, started to work on our own special room for ourselves and his friends. In here we could explore each other’s bodies to their full capacities. I mean, Dad already knows me from the inside-out and in again, but he wanted to facilitate the invitation of more people.
Phil and Ryan came up to hug me. Ryan tussled my hair and kissed me on the cheek while Phil grabbed my ass. I sprung an instant erection.
“Now boys,” Francis jumped in, “Save that for the bedroom, why don’t you?”
“It’s not just a bedroom anymore, thanks to Phil and Ryan,” my father pointed out, grabbing my hand once more. It was even warmer than before.
He helped me down the stairs, pressed against me from behind and holding onto my hip with his other hand. I felt his rock-hard shaft up my lower back. I imagined what it looked like, pulsing and throbbing red, pink and purple beneath his briefs, just ready to release inside of me. I bet the head was already shiny and dripping gallons, as it often did when I became irresistible to him.
I entered the password in the keypad which opened the door. Inside, the lights faded open to reveal where we would be spending the evening. In the furthest left-hand corner was the shower, which was really a shower nozzle on the ceiling and two two-metre wide, ceiling-high tiled walls that met perpendicularly. The floor of the shower was the same white tile as the wall and met the rest of the floor at ground level, with a small drain in the middle.
In thee closest left-hand corner was a black almost-yoga chair, designed specifically to take cocks up the ass and in the mouth simultaneously, and comfortably. We make sure to wash it after every session because it’s often where we finish, meaning it gets the rough end of the storm.
Now that I trust Dad’s friends more, I’m always swallowing their orgasms or letting them finish inside me. That way, not only do we have less to clean afterwards, but I can also get closer to my daily protein requirement.
And yes, I am always the life of the party. I can both give and take it like a champ, I’m incredibly flexible and physically versatile, and my stamina has no limits. In fact, as of last week, Phil, Ryan, and Francis both agreed to cash tip me every time, as a thank you. Although I assured that them I didn’t need it and that I looked forward to spending every Friday evening with my Dad and them. So they suggested throwing it into my savings and I eventually took them up on their offer. After all, it’s an extra weekly $120 I get to have fun making.
Though a part of me wondered if they did this as a way of telling me, “We each gave you forty bucks, we don’t want to hear you say ‘no.'”
But they were gentlemen with loving wives and stable families outside of the bedroom, so I doubt that. Dad wouldn’t let me fuck bad men, anyways. Or unattractive ones, either. And this is why I especially looked forward to Fridays.
My Father’s friends are all incredibly attractive. Francis is 40 and has a thick mop of dirty blond hair he sometimes ties up in a bun. His lips and cheeks are rosy and his skin doesn’t sag an inch. He is the most active of the three.
Ryan is a lean, olive-skinned 43-year-old with a murderous smile. He has the least body hair of anyone, including me, because he grooms so well. You could see the remnants of twink dying inside of him, begging to grow up and become a daddy.
Now Phil. Phil is, and has always been my favorite of Dad’s friends. I tried guessing why one time and I came to the conclusion that it’s because he’s the oldest and most like my Dad, both in looks and charm. They are both almost impossibly handsome for their 45 years and know how to play a room of people really well. They are unstoppable at social events and get-togethers, carrying the weight of the room on their shoulders for hours at a time. Since I was a kid, I’ve always looked up to my Dad and his respectable attitude, and I see Phil as someone who will hold him accountable in his wrongdoings.
Though of course, my Dad will always be my favorite. The most attractive, the most virile, he will always know my body and my sweet spots more than anyone else because he made me. I am part of him, and he knows what he enjoys himself. It’s only safe to assume that he knows what I enjoy, too.
In fact, that’s how we started our sexual relationship. He knew that I held with such high esteem the same passion between a father and his son that so many repress or hide. I was lucky that this taboo had no effect on our relationship. But he never did anything to make me feel uncomfortable. Only from the moment he knew it was right, he started to give me hints that I was free to explore my sexuality with him.
The first hint Dad gave me was when he dared me to skinny dip in our pool right after we opened it for the summer, when the water was still slightly freezing. I was standing on the deck, net-in-hand and denying his dares when he decided he would strip down. He started by lifting his shirt over his head, throwing it, and then yanking down his pants. He had already not been wearing any briefs, for whatever reason, so his semi-flaccid penis just slapped firmly against his furry thighs, his large nuts dangling low beneath him. I watched his cock swing in the wind with every stride he made towards the pool, until he was fully ahead of me and I could watch his ass cheeks shake. Just for me, I thought.
Dad cannon-balled in the pool, splashing me almost completely wet. I was wearing a thin white shirt at the time, which left not much for the imagination afterwards.
“Come on!” he shouted. “It’s not that cold. R’you scared your dick’s gonna shrivel up?” His dark wet hair sagged and dripped, covering his eyes. Maybe he had been looking at something else through those fibers.
So I gave him something more to look at. I pulled off my wet shirt the same way he did, throwing it on the railing. Then I yanked down my pants, the same way he did, and made for the pool. I didn’t even think about jumping. I just did.
My ass cheeks hit the water with a CLAP! and I sunk beneath the surface.
I stayed underwater for a moment waiting for the bubbles to disappear around me. After they cleared I saw all of our hard work. The water was crystal-clear and refracted the sunlight all over the blue floor. I saw everything, without a single trace of algae anywhere.
This meant I got a better look at Dad’s penis, which was fully erect and pointed at me, even in the cold. The foreskin had even been pulled-back, revealing the glossy tip. He had one hand floating by his thigh and another scratching the underside of his testicles.
I didn’t want to leave this sight. I wanted to stay underwater and look at my father’s manhood forever. My heart raced at the mere thought of it being only meters away from me, pointing right at me, like he was telling me he wanted me to come closer and put my mouth on it. I was underwater in the privacy of our backyard, behind hedges. “Nobody will see,” I thought to myself. “I promise.” I had only the little time I spent underwater to gauge whether making a sexual advance on my father was appropriate. I had wanted it, fantasized it for so long. My naked body had never been so close to his naked body.
I decided to let my fantasy go and return to the surface. I let my hair drip for a moment, perhaps hiding my shame, before pushing them back to look up at the sky. When I looked back at my father he winked at me and left the pool without another word.
I watched him leave a path of puddles behind him. He made no move to get his clothes and walked down the stairs to get a towel, which he had laid out on the deck in the afternoon sun.
There, he would let me watch him dry as I stayed, floating in the pool. It was there, for the first time that he answered my secret, forbidden wishes. I had never seen two men maintain their erections for so long in the presence of one another.
The second hint he gave me was much less subliminal. My father told me later, deeper into our sexual relationship, that this was when he knew for certain that I was attracted to him.
Well Dad, just like Francis, likes to fuck with people sometimes. One way he liked to fuck with me was by giving me his underwear after a load of laundry instead of my own. This meant I was often stuck with two, sometimes three pairs of briefs that didn’t belong to me. The first few times this happened I happily returned his clothing, but as this kept happening I grew tired and started to savor the opportunities for intense jerk-off sessions.
So I started to wear his briefs instead of my own. I would go to school in them and do my homework in them, and most importantly, I would masturbate in them. Man, I’ll never forget soaking these things with jets of my cum, as nothing got my blood pumping more than the thought my father’s cock and balls touching the same fabric. I would use them to stroke my shaft, I would hump them, pressing them against my bed as my foreskin slid in and out behind the dick-flap. I would sniff them and lick them and do whatever I wanted with them, imagining what it would be like to fuck him in real life. When I was done with them, usually after three or four loads, I would throw them into the laundry as usual and move on to the next pair like the dirty boy I was.
Of course, I didn’t think at the time that my dad was doing this on purpose so I thought nothing of it. But it got boring fast, when the briefs essentially became mine there was no more dirty fantasy associated with them. It was around this time or not long after that I started to see my old briefs coming back from purgatory. One-by-one they started to reappear on my shelf, until one day I had them all back and none of Dad’s old ones.
One of them, however, the dark green briefs that were almost too small for me, showed up stacked on top of the other clothes with a small stain on the front. The briefs themselves were folded, leaving the stain in full sight. Only it wasn’t a stain, it was a puddle-freshly shot and still sticky. And because I hadn’t remembered jerking off into them any time recently, I knew I was looking at Dad’s cum.
I treasured these briefs for the moments that I had them. Almost instantly after discovering his cum on them, I carefully laid them out onto my bed and pumped a quickie onto the very same spot, making sure I didn’t ruin the integrity of his marking. When I was finished I used the tip of my penis to mix the two puddles into one and then slipped them on. I waited for them to dry a bit before leaving my room, returning some dishes to the kitchen wearing only the briefs.
My dad was working on some papers at the kitchen table when he saw me stroll in. I saw his eyes dart immediately at my crotch, where the stain was in plain view. This was my way of letting him know that I knew what he was up to.
But truthfully I didn’t. I still wasn’t sure if I was imagining this all and that the cum wasn’t cum and it was just yogurt or something and Dad mistakenly placed it on my desk not knowing they were dirty and…
But I knew that was unlikely. My heart raced at my own exhibitionism, which I had just discovered was a hereditary trait. I bent over to place my dishes in the dishwasher, exposing all that I could of my ass in the briefs. And I knew he was looking at me because I heard him stop writing.
I went back to my room that day ready to milk another load at the memory of my father’s eyes on my slender body. It took no more convincing. My dad and I were both cursed with the same shameful lust for each other.
Now I could tell you about the third time, which was really the first time-the first time we had sex. I could tell you about it all, the time we could no longer hold it in from each other, when, in the quiet of the night, my father ushered me into his room and entered me with his manhood, plowing my conscious body nearly unconscious.
But I’ve already sidetracked enough. I haven’t finished telling you about the room, having missed one important detail: our chef d’oeuvre.
With the help of Phil and Ryan, Dad and I rigged a makeshift sex swing that was surprisingly safe and comfortable. All of us have had a turn on it, being the center of attention. But naturally we manufactured it for my own pleasure. This is where I would spend most of the sessions, in different position, being everyone’s fuck toy and taking cock like I, too, had been designed for their pleasure. Tonight would be no different.
It didn’t take long before the men were taking off their construction gear and hanging them up on the coat rack. The only one who hadn’t been wearing his work clothes was my father as he didn’t work today. He had the least amount of clothing to remove so he peeled down to his briefs in the blink of an eye. I was almost done undressing when he approached me with his massive hard-on and poked me in the thigh with it. He beamed at me and smiled in a way that begged me to take off his underwear for him.
So I slipped off the last of my clothing at the same time and pressed my semi-flaccid penis against his. Within seconds my cock was pointing up to his belly button, pushing on his lower pelvis. He started to kiss me and then he threw my hands up in the air so I couldn’t resist, pushing down softly on my head using only his body to tell me what he wanted.
On my knees, I started to swallow his manhood, sucking it wet and sloppy. I bobbed my neck back and forth, making sure the head of his cock tickled the back of my throat and brushed up softly against every tooth. He felt warm, almost hot, his entire seven-and-a-half inch member filling up my face and cheeks. This unconventional heat told me if I kept going we’d leave ourselves with a mess in my mouth much too early.
And as bad as I wanted that I also wanted this to be fun. I wanted to stretch them all out, fucking with their stamina. I wanted to edge them into oblivion.
So I stopped sucking only to see Phil and Ryan stroking their own cocks, watching me pleasure my father. Francis was rummaging through the cupboard to find the lube he liked.
Dad noticed Phil and Ryan watching, and made a show of me by slapping his cock in my face. And then again. And again, until both cheeks were warm and red. Dad was Daddy, now, and for the next for hours they would all be
I looked up at the four of them glossy-eyed. They had formed a circle around me, their sizable members pointing in and blocking my field of vision. I was in heaven. All of these men would have their way with me tonight, filling every hole they possibly could, and there was nothing more I wanted in the world.
They all made for my mouth at the same time, giggling among each other and fighting to see who would get me first. I motioned to get up but decided to sit back on my feet, not even having the time or space to remove the pile of clothes under me before I was drowning in mature cock. Dad and Francis gave each other a look that said “dibs”, and both stuck their cocks in my mouth, rubbing up against each other on my tongue. Where Francis was long and thin and coated with his favorite flavored lubricant, Daddy was thicker and meatier, and lubricated by himself. His head was also much bigger and bolder-looking. I knew I would never get tired of it.
I preferred my cocks darker both in color and in fur, and my father fit the bill perfectly. Even better, he had a huge vein that ran down the middle of his shaft that visibly engorged any time he was horny. While Francis had an undoubtedly beautiful piece, nothing compared to Daddy’s.
They were slowly thrusting in my mouth, kissing each other, when I felt a hand prop up my ass and then lightly play with my hole. The other hand cupped my balls and tugged on them, playing with the skin and pulling them behind to touch my ass. And then a tongue snuck inside me which I only could have imagined belonged to Ryan. We all knew well his affinity for eating asses, and never complained about this exceptional talent.
While Ryan took care of me from behind and Daddy and Francis from the front, Phil was left to eat Ryan’s hole which made me kind of sad considering Francis had the biggest cock of the four of them. Francis was eight-and-a-half inches long and almost as thick as my fist. His cock looked a lot like Daddy’s but one thing I liked better was that Phil was a shooter. He shot the biggest, creamiest loads, and was often the last to finish which made for a spectacular finale.