Saving It For Daddy

I began to rotate my hips and thrust myself over him. I savored the feeling of my ass around his cock as I rubbed my hands over his beard and jaw and through his hair.


He lit the joint and stuck it between is big, pink lips. The smoke rose from his mouth up and around his jaw and nose, all while looking at me. “He’s thinking about me,” I thought. “He’s analyzing me.”

He pulled the bone from his lips but kept it between his fingers, wasting away a fine, milky white smoke.

“Pass it, you’re letting it burn,” I told him and held out my fingers. But all he did was pull off his sun glasses and hang them on the neck of his shirt. A few wisps of pitch black hair sprung out. Beneath his white t-shirt, his large chest pressed against the wet fabric. His nipples were firm and wide-set, like they ought to be. I wanted a body like him. I always did.

He caught me staring at his chest. A little smile crossed his mouth, but something about it told me he didn’t want me to see it. “If he stares at me, I can stare at him all I want,” I thought. He passed me the joint and I took it.

I was already feeling nice and warm when he finally spoke the first thing to me in hours. We had been doing yard-work for seven hours, gardening, mowing, watering, painting… And when we worked hard, we did so in silence.

“You worked well, Horus,” he told me. “Even in this heat, we got a lot done.”

He ushered me to give him back he joint. It was cherry flavored rolling paper, and I knew that was his favorite. So I gave it back.

“Thank you, dad.” I said.

“I’m going to take the clothes off the line. Finish the bone.” He took a last toke and handed it back to me, and I offered to take care of the clothes but he ignored me. By the time I was finished the joint, the clothes were off the line and dad was inside. I was high as hell and I needed water.

I went inside and got myself water. I decided I would read a book in my room, but when I tried to couldn’t focus. Maybe it was because I was stoned or because my cock was pressing hard against my blue jeans. But I decided I wouldn’t read.

A stack of freshly dried clothes were laying on my desk. While storing them, I noticed a pair of navy blue underwear that weren’t mine. “My dad’s,” I thought. Nobody else lived in the house but the two of us. I thought of telling him, but a part of me told me I shouldn’t.

My cock grew even bigger and pulsed even harder beneath my jeans. I never thought like this before, but something about the thought of wearing them flicked a switch inside of me. I decided to take them to the bathroom and put them on. I didn’t want him to catch me.

I stripped nude in front of a mirror in the bathroom. Come to think of it, my body did look a lot like my father’s. We both played rugby for over a decade, and so we were built like true men. I unfolded the underwear and slipped them on. Instantly, I was filled with excitement and arousal. The idea that these touched my dad’s penis almost made me cum. “What should I do with them?” I thought. What would happen if I jizzed in them? “I’ll just throw them in the hamper.”

I started to stroke my pulsing shaft over the fabric. I pulled them up high so that they hugged my balls and ass. My own dad’s cock came and sweat in these. Though, I thought how much better it would be if they weren’t washed. “Next time, I’ll pick them fresh from the hamper.”

I pulled my nine-incher from the dick slit and rubbed it gently against my palm. I wondered if my penis looked the same as his. I imagined him stroking his as I was doing now, and thrusting himself hard inside me through the dick slit of the same pair I was wearing. I was about to ejaculate on the pair before a loud knocking came from the hallway.

“You gonna’ be long?” My dad asked.

“No,” I shouted.

I pondered for a moment whether I should cum or wait until later. If I waited, I would have a bigger cum load. So I kept on dad’s underwear, threw mine in the hamper, put on my clothes and left the bathroom. Outside the door, my dad stood close and shirtless, dashingly handsome and smelling ripe of man, so I assumed he would shower.

Later that evening he asked me if I wanted to watch a movie. He still hadn’t clothed and was wandering around in a single pair of tight, grey Calvin Kleins, which he rarely did. It outlined his cock and ass beautifully when I dared to look. He had a magnificent round butt and at least a seven-incher, soft, cupped by the thin material. He was acting strange, and I knew it was because he was feeling lonely and horny. It was often he came home with friends from work, but rare that he came home with women. I obliged to watch a movie, but asked why he chose not to wear clothes.

“It’s hot, don’t you think? It’s mid-July, boy, we should both be stripped naked!”

“It is hot,” I replied. And he reckoned we should strip… My father made weird and generally inappropriate comments often, but they always made me smile. “I could at least remove my shirt,” I thought.

He sat on the couch as I bent over to put Pulp Fiction in the DVD player. I recommended it to him as I’d seen it a number of times and he never did. I took off my shirt and sat on the couch right beside him. He was manspreading as if it was none of my business, and though I was cautious to look, I knew that his manhood was pressing firm against his underwear.

I was still insanely stoned and I gathered he was just as stoned as me.

“It’s much hotter than that, boy,” he told me. “Does he really want to see me in my underwear?” I thought. “Or his underwear, rather.”

Without truly questioning, given how hungry I was for daddy dick, I obeyed and took off my pants. As I was about to remove my long, black socks, he stopped me.

“Not as hot as that, boy.”

So I obeyed.

I could tell by the end of the movie he was lost, or he simply didn’t care. He hadn’t noticed, however, that I was wearing his briefs. So he couldn’t have been looking at me the whole time.

“That was a long fucking movie,” he told me. “But I liked it well enough.” He stuck his hand unexpectedly into his underwear and adjusted his package. So I chose this moment to finally say something about his odd behavior.

“You have to do that in front of me?” I asked.

“I can do damn well whatever I please. If my balls need adjusting, I will adjust them. And you’re my son, you shouldn’t care about stupid little things like that.”

And he was right. I didn’t even mind him touching himself, really. I just needed to know why. Did he want me? My heart was beating so quickly I felt it in my throat. Before I could reach out my hand and place it on his cock he stood up and went to bed. I remained on the couch for a few hours browsing porn on my phone and rubbing myself. I remembered only as I was about to cum that I was supposed to saving my semen for a bigger load.

It was not long before I decided that I would not spill a single drop of seed on myself. I would do anything and everything in my power to get my father to have sex with me, and only then would I release myself.

My first attempt, I decided, would be to get him to see me naked. “To see his son’s penis for himself,” I thought.” And that will show me whether he truly wants me or if he’s just casually horny. So that night, I chose to sleep briefless on the couch. The first thing he would see when he stepped into the lounge tomorrow is me sprawled out, ready for whenever he needed me. Surely the sight of me will have his cock pulsing in no time.

The next morning I awoke to a tapping on my shoulder. It was my father asking me if I wanted sausages for breakfast. A morning stubble lined his square jaw and traced above his pink lips. He didn’t even ask me to clothe myself, but he did notice that it was his navy blue underwear on the carpet.

“Are those mine?” He asked me.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “They were on my desk with the rest of the clean clothes.”

He was still in the same underwear as last night, and nothing but. His package, though, I noticed, was erect. It could have simply been morning wood, but that usually goes away once you’re out of bed. His cock was pressing against the dick slit, and when he turned around the fabric was wedged between his ass cheeks.

He cooked breakfast as I admired his figure. His back muscles rippled with every move, and his moist, tanned skin glowed in the rays of morning light peaking through the kitchen window. “A true man.” I thought, “Making his boy some breakfast.” I couldn’t help but admire every inch of his body when he wasn’t looking. Though a part of me still told me he wanted me to look.

I remained naked as we ate breakfast in silence. “Today will be even hotter, I heard,” I told him.

“Is that why you’re naked?” He laughed.

“Last night was hot as hell, dad. Don’t you remember.

“I remember. My balls are even sweatier than last night.” He adjusted himself again, only he kept his hand there for longer.

My dick rose slowly under the table, and I stroked it subtlety as I forked a sausage. Both of our hands were on our manhood’s as we finished our breakfast, but dad released his hand and put his plate in the dishwasher before me. I continued to stroke my cock, even in his full sight. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum. And I’m sure he did, too.

By 12 p.m, it was 32 degrees and both of us were lounging on the deck. It was Sunday and we both decided it would be a day of quiet and relaxation in the sun. We talked about many things, but soon enough we were on the topic of women, and he asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told him I didn’t, so he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said no, again. He was never resentful towards homosexuals, I knew, because one of his older brothers happened to be gay. And a sister, too. “Though, there was a boy,” I admitted. “But I realized he was just another horny boy.”

“Boys,” he giggled. He stood and left, and returned with a cherry flavored blunt. I knew he had tens of orange and grape flavored joints stored in a bag somewhere, and I knew he only smoked the blunts when he was in a light mood. Especially the cherry ones. My father stoned on a gloomy day is another sight to see.

He sparked the first one and blew seven Os through his lips. The milky smoke dissipated and he handed me the bone. I couldn’t see his eyes through the Aviators, but it felt like he wasn’t looking at the blunt. I took three huge tokes and handed it back. He stuck it in his mouth and pulled his briefs down just above where his shaft started. He plucked the blunt from his lips and exhaled a grey cloud.

“If we tan, we tan everything right?” He said with a smile. I could see his tan lines color and contour his pelvic bones and abdomen. A trail of coarse, nightly black hair led from his navel to his cock.

“Then take it all off then,” I demanded him. My father obeyed and, very slowly, he pushed the underwear over his cock, then down and over his thighs, past his knees and around his ankles, twisting and rippling beneath his skin and muscles all the while. Most importantly, his manhood was girthy and huge. He caught me admiring and giggled.

“You like what I have, boy?” His white teeth peeked through full and wet lips as he ashed the unfinished blunt and saved it.

“We look alike, is all,” I admitted. “You might be bigger, though.”

“You’re not even hard, it would be unfair to say that.”

“Neither are you.”

His dick pulsed and he put his palm over it, stroking the shaft slowly. I couldn’t stop my own cock from rising, and I didn’t even bother trying. I turned my head as not to look, only out of respect. He was hardening himself to showcase it to me.

“Look, Horus,” he said when he was done. “We’re the same size.” But he had said that simply out of pity. His own manhood was about two inches longer than mine.

“Holy shit. How big are you?” I asked.

“I never bothered putting a tape measure beside my cock.”

“We’re doing it right now.” I stood, horny and anxious to touch him. I went to the shed and returned with yellow tape measure. I kneeled beside him and extended it as he held up his erect penis for me to measure. It was just how I had imagined. Veiny, throbbing red and purple, with a shiny round head. And soft against my finger tips. A coarse hair climbed an inch up his shaft and around the large vein I, too, had myself.

“Eleven inches,” I told him, and removed the tape measure. “You are one hung daddy.”

Something about what I said made him quiet. “Did I say something wrong?” I thought to myself. I leaned back into my chair and didn’t say another word.

Thirty minutes of sun bathing passed and both of our bodies were bronzed and sweaty. Our cocks were warm and our tan lines faded minorly. My eyes were closed and I was half in a dream when I heard my father beginning to masturbate. Beside me. I opened my eyes just enough to see, and he had indeed started to touch himself. His firm and masculine hand was enveloping his manhood. I opened my eyes wide, tired of hiding my interest, and watched him.

“You’re watching me,” he said, breathing heavily.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re breathing loudly,” I replied.

“Want me to go in?”


I put my palm on my own already hard cock and stroked it at the same pace as him. I had never been this fucking horny before and my body ached for my father’s. I wanted to be on top of him. I wanted him inside of me, to bond with him like true father and son. I hadn’t cum in days and who better to spill it on then dad himself? But why would he fuck me? Right here, right now? Mutual masturbation was one thing. Dads often did it with their sons when they came of age. But penetration? Sex?

“Have you had boys before,” I asked him when he stopped to flip himself. His ass was much whiter. “A perfect fucking ass,” I thought.

“There was a boy,” he told me. “Dashing and intelligent. But I didn’t love him as much as he loved me. I’ll admit though,” he continued. “He made any mattress a memory foam mattress.” Dad took off his sun glasses started to thrust himself against the lawn chair.

“Tell me about your boy,” he demanded me.

“Sounds much like yours. Though mine loved me another way. He was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. But that’s all he was good for.”

“Was he good to you?”

“The best. For the wrong reasons. I didn’t deserve to be lusted but unloved.”

“You aren’t unloved,” my father said firmly, rising from his rest. His eyes were bloodshot and the look he gave me finally told me something. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

He sat on the edge of his chair, staring at my body and rubbing his chest and with his left hand and his cock with his right. I decided to do the same. It was not long before he started to rub himself faster, breathe heavier and pull himself harder. He was looking right at me, but I knew he questioned whether it would be right to touch me or not. He ejaculated hard into his hand and onto my knee before I could ask him to. I offered to clean it up but he looked away. I dipped my finger into the cum on my knee and stuck it on my tongue. “I really don’t mind,” I told him. But he stood without another breath. He wiped himself clean with his dirty briefs and went inside.

Later that night as we were eating dinner fully clothed, he asked me if what we did earlier was wrong. It was a blunt question, but certainly not a bad one.

“No. You are my father and you love me. There’s no shame in that,” I replied.

“I shouldn’t love you that way.”

“But I love you, too, dad. I want you that way.”

He looked at me with a look of relief. A “maybe we belong together,” look. We finished dinner and I helped him clean up.

He didn’t speak to me all that night for fear of uneasiness. If he didn’t want me, I was okay with that. I could sense his discomfort and I didn’t want to worsen it.

It was midnight when I awoke to find him sleeping in my bed beside me, naked. I pressed my cock against his ass and rubbed myself slowly.

“Son,” he moaned into the pillow.

“Wake up. Touch me, daddy.”

He turned around and held hands on my chest and thigh, pressing his lips against mine. His daddy dick was fully erect and touching my own. He stopped kissing my lips and began on my neck, and then my nipples, and then my abs and stomach, and soon enough my father had his lips around my cock, licking the shaft and toying with the head. I was about to cum when I stopped him and flipped him on his back, with only the light of the moon to see. Tonight, I would have his cock and seed in my ass. I sat on top of him, close enough to his penis.

“Get me some lube in my room,” he demanded. “And a condom.”

“Why? Use your spit,” I replied. “And it’s not like we’ve fucked anybody in a while.”

That certainly heated things up. He lifted me on positioned my hole onto his eleven-incher. It hurt like hell, but it was my prerogative to not use any proper lube. It was not long before pain turned into pleasure, and I begun to rotate my hips and thrust myself over him. I savored the feeling of my ass around his cock as I rubbed my hands over his beard and jaw and through his hair. He had a full, thick head of hair like me, only his black had a few streaks of silver. “I like age in a man,” I thought.

“Daddy, fuck me daddy! I screamed! Cum inside me!” I yelled, and it took thirty fast seconds of furious humping before he did. I felt a rocket of my father’s semen jet into me as he slowed his thrust. He slowly pulled his cock out, releasing puddles of cum out of my crack and onto his thigh. He pushed me onto my knees and decided he would lick the cum out if my ass.

When he finished he kissed me, tonguing my mouth with his seed. It tasted so sweet and thick, like I imagined. It felt so good to finally have been fucked, and to feel my own daddy’s cum on my tongue. I licked him clean and he returned the deed by finishing me off. He gently placed his pretty, pink lips around his son’s penis and sucked it until I came eight hot jets into his throat and onto his chin. My father licked that clean himself.

We slept that night up against each other. His warmth protected me. From what, I don’t know. But it felt good. And I hadn’t wasted a drop on myself.


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