Here's a new story I wrote especially for Nifty. Usually I write for my Tumblr - a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime - and repost here to Nifty, but this one's all-new for you guys, to celebrate my 100th story posted to the Nifty Archive. It's longer and deeper than my usual stuff, more of a slow-burn leading up to the sex. Stick with it. I'll be doing more Nifty originals in the future, and I wanted to kick that off with this one.
This story is heavily incest-themed, but the sex depicted is between two (or more) consenting, non-related adults, who wish they were related, and play like they are.
Special thanks to Bill Drake for his assistance and advice with this one. If you don't already know him, you need to check out his stories, here on Nifty and at his Tumblr, drakestories.tumblr.com. I wouldn't be writing at all if it wasn't for him. He's one of the best around. Thanks, bud. You're a real brother.
This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.
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Sometimes you just gotta go with your gut.
At least that's what I was thinking as Kieran O'Malley stood in front of my desk, his 5'10", 190-pound college wrestler frame filling out his pressed dress shirt and blue trousers quite nicely. No, I don't do the hiring for the company, but I had given HR the resume and put in a good word for O'Malley, since me and his dad go way back, back to our fraternity days at SigEp. Me and Big Jim shared a bunch of business classes, and in the evenings and on the weekends we'd share a twelve pack or some quality weed... and after we'd loosened up a little, we'd share some good times rolling around in O'Malley's bed before the big wrestler gave up his hole for my always horny cock. I never met a dude so keyed up sexually and so hungry a bottom. That he had a fleshy-hard classic wrestler's bubble butt made the sex that much more awesome.
Of course, we'd both settled down after sowing our oats. We'd both married, had a son, and gotten divorced. Jim's boy Kieran was now at Penn, and my guy Caleb was tearing up the high school football records in his senior year at Westdale High.
"I've finished the PowerPoint, AJ," Kieran said, his voice a nice mellow mix of jock baritone and Ivy League polish. He had his trademark smile on - the kid seemed eager to do even the most tedious assignments I gave him. I'll give him credit. Ivy League kids usually make the worst hires and even worse interns. Too convinced of their own ability, and not that willing to do work they consider beneath them. I had one Harvard grad who had the balls to ask me the first week of work how long it would be before he got his first promotion.
Kieran was different. Jim had done a good job raising a young man with his head on his shoulders and a good work ethic. He'd spent the first week going around all "yes, sir" and "no, sir," until I finally told him to call me AJ. He went out of his way to do work and to make my life easier. You might think him a suck-up, only I got the feeling it was genuine, a real desire to do a job and do it well. Color me impressed.
Still, I had this gut feeling about him.
It was similar to the one that had guided me to start up with my son Caleb a few months back. The biggest risk of my life, but one that had paid off bigtime – a risk for the both of us, one that we'd both been willing to take on, and plunge headlong into. I still had to pinch myself that I was having sex with my studly football-star son on a regular basis. It was unbelievably naughty, taboo, and hot, sneaking around and upping the stakes, going from handjobs to kissing to oral and finally, three weeks ago, fucking for the first time. I felt like a college dude again, sexual and alive, and closer emotionally to my son than I ever thought possible.
I had an instinctive feeling Kieran O'Malley had a similar arrangement with his old man. It was just a vibe I picked up, the tone in Jim's voice when he called me to let me know Kieran was looking for a summer internship. Fatherly pride in his voice, sure, but it almost sounded like the big lug of an ex-jock was in love with his own kid. And the way Kieran perked up every time I talked about his father. Excited, like it was his first crush... hell, maybe it was.
I pushed my chair back and leaned away from my desk, arms behind my head. Despite some extra middle-aged spread around the middle, I'm in pretty good muscular form for 44. I had Caleb to thank for that - something about having a young jock around the house that's extra inspiration to get back in shape - and I could see O'Malley's eyes surreptitiously take in my body as my dress shirt stretched over it. Or maybe silently he was just feeling superior that he had the taut, perfect form of a 20-year-old wrestler.
"Got lunch plans, O'Malley?" I said.
"I brought a sandwich, sir," he said. "I'm saving up for a trip to Jamaica with the brothers on Fall break."
"Yeah, I know how that is," I chuckled. "Well, I hope you're not too attached to that sandwich, bud. We're going to lunch, you and me."
Friday afternoon in late June and the office was practically deserted. I was pretty much the highest-ranked staff member in the office, and with hardly anybody but me and O'Malley around, I decided we'd take a long lunch. Part of it was professional - he deserved someone senior looking out for his time at the company, to make sure the internship wasn't just a low-grade temp job. But, yeah, sure, I had some ulterior motives. I'd have to tiptoe around it, but I was determined to find out more about Kieran and his dad, my old college fuckbud.
I had that gut feeling that Caleb and I had found, against all odds, another dad-son couple. I didn't want to get too far ahead of myself, because I knew how rare that was. But my instincts – paternal instincts, maybe, in some perverse way – were kicking over. And if there's one thing I've learned in life, you gotta trust your instincts.
"Great. Let's take a late lunch then," I said. "Swing by your desk in about an hour?"
"Yes sir," Kieran said, with a little twinkle in that handsome smile of his to let me know he was tweaking me on the whole `sir' thing. The kid had that same slightly playful sense of humor his old man had. I wondered what other traits they shared...
My afternoon schedule was open, and I blocked out the hours on Outlook, leaving room for this to be an open-ended lunch. By the time I powered down the PC, I had to pinch the base of the newly forming hardon in my khakis. My thoughts were getting way ahead of themselves.
I swung by Kieran's desk around 12:30, where he was proofing a presentation for me and redoing some of the graphs, completely absorbed in his work. Not fucking around on the internet, like most interns would be doing on a slow Friday - and I generally don't have a problem with that, so long as their work is done and it's not an everyday thing. But the kid was really putting in some solid work, making my presentation better. We were paying him the pretty standard intern rate, but was planning on inking a little bonus for him that should make him very happy at the end of his internship, before he headed back to school.
"Ready?" I asked. I gave his big shoulder a squeeze, felt the big muscle under his shirt flex. Yeah, it was a little unprofessional, maybe, but it was almost instinctive on my part, something I did with my own kid, man to man. Kieran seemed to take it as a normal, male closeness thing, looking up at me and smiling, all blue eyes and big white teeth and lips I could clearly picture parting to slide down my... Shit, no, bad train of thought to be boarding. These flat-front pants didn't hide anything at all once my cock started to fill out, and I'd hate for the kid to get the wrong idea about me.
That smile could melt stone. All genuine, and god damned cute. I felt my cock stir a little, again, in my boxer briefs, so I left him to close up shop, before I got into obvious trouble...
"Don't forget to bring your things, buddy," I added. "It's a slow day - might as well get the weekend started."
He tried not to look too excited five minutes later as we waited for the elevator - 20 years old, and he's still pretty much a kid, I guess - but he had his messenger bag over his shoulder, and we headed down to Ruth's Chris.
I could see his eyes pop a little at the menu and the prices, but I'd worked out a way to expense the whole thing. I don't think he believed me when I told him to order whatever he wanted, and he still looked disbelieving when I asked him if he was a bourbon man. Hell, when you're 20, you're pretty much an "anything I can get a hold of" man, am I right? But he nodded, so I ordered us a couple. When they arrived and I held my glass up, he picked his up, squared his shoulders and puffed up that big, impressive wrestler chest, making the buttons on his slim-cut dress shirt strain a little, showing me the white of his skin-tight undershirt beneath. Caleb tells me they call it the "chest gap", and it's kind of a mark of pride for young guys, another way to show off their impressive pecs. Whatever, Kieran was showing it off to good effect, though I don't know if it was that intentional. Kid seemed too deferential and eager to please to show off quite like that.
"Here's to the future, O'Malley. I get the feeling it's gonna be a bright one for you, buddy."
Man, the smile on his face, the look in his eyes - I wish I could've captured it. Saw something very similar in Caleb's the first time I told him he could spend the night with me. The optimistic excitement of a young man in his prime, on the cusp of even greater things. Damn, I missed that feeling. But I loved seeing it in my boy Caleb's smile, and I loved seeing it just as much on big young O'Malley's handsome, square-jawed face too. We clinked glasses, and maybe that first drink went down a little too smoothly, but fuck it, it was a long lunch, and we had a lot of food coming and no place else to be the rest of the day. So I ordered us another.
Lunch lasted nearly three hours, but it seemed to fly by. The kid was a hell of a conversationalist – plenty of that youthful enthusiasm, but with the poise of a man really starting to show through. Had some real insights on a range of things, from sports to current events to business talk. Especially with the second drink in front of him, he was at real ease with me physically, and the way our knees brushed under the table was casual, friendly, but yet somehow intimate as hell. He had this way of leaning in when he was excited to make a point, and laying his hand on my forearm to emphasize it, that kept my cock on a slow boil the whole afternoon.
We got to talking about SigEp. Kieran had followed in his father's footsteps by pledging at the Penn chapter, the oldest one in the country, in fact. We talked about the fraternity and family tradition, about what it was like to have that connection to your father. I talked about my boy Caleb, who was hoping to pledge when he got to State in the fall, the same house Jim and I had been in. I asked what it must be like for the younger guys to have a certain rep to live up to.
"Well, I'm not in the same chapter, obviously," Kieran said, "But I do feel that being legacy raises the bar a lot. It's something I've tried to live up to, to be like Dad."
We talked about the difficulty of balancing good times with responsibility. Kieran seemed to hold back a little, sensing he shouldn't be talking to his boss too much about partying, but I did my best to put him at ease, confessing that I'd had lived it up, maybe a little too much, in my college days.
"What happens with brothers, stays with brothers, am I right?" I teased, and Kieran laughed, a little more relaxed now. Then I mentioned his dad. Said how Big Jim was quite the legend in his day. That seemed to get a big smile, and I felt safe to test the waters a bit more.
"You know, I got this buddy Bill, a guy from our house. I don't know if I should tell you this, but Bill always had the biggest mancrush on your dad." All true, but I failed to mention my own history with his old man. Or the time me, Big Jim and Bill had spent a lazy long weekend over Easter break, sucking and fucking and bringing each other off repeatedly in various configurations. The many times, come to think of it. The three of us had made quite a team like that.
"Oh yeah?" That got a chuckle. At least Kieran wasn't homophobic, and seemed almost pleased to think of Jim as an object of attraction. Proud, maybe. I had to press more.
I pulled out my phone and showed him pics of me and my boy on the boat earlier this summer, Caleb shirtless and cut, pumped up hard from two-a-days. Talked a little about how close we were, how we'd drawn tighter through the process of his mother divorcing me, how proud I was to play a part in his development as a young man, and to get a glimpse of the fine man he was fast becoming. You know, typical proud-Dad stuff. Kieran nodded approvingly, that big smile on his face still, and as I'd hoped, he started to open up a little more about him and Big Jim. He didn't say anything telling right away, but I could see the look in his eyes when he talked about his dad. A certain tone of voice. I had to wonder if I was pushing too hard, setting myself up for exposing me and my son's secret, all for nothing. I put my phone away, quiet, a little introspective, letting Kieran set the pace. Trusting my gut again.
Kieran paused for a second, like he was weighing something. Then he pulled out his own phone and started showing me pics, him and Big Jim up at the lake, shirtless, arms slung round each other's necks. The two of them at a cookout at Kieran's chapter, smoking cigars. My hardon returned, bigtime. The pictures themselves were innocent enough, but there was something so powerful about the two O'Malley men's proximity, and the visible affection in their eyes. The clear bond between them. Maybe not everyone would pick up on it, but as a man intimately involved with his son, I thought I recognized that particular closeness pretty well.
"I see you take after him, buddy," I said. "He's a handsome man, and you definitely got his looks and his build. No wonder you're so dominant on the mats, big guy."
He loved the compliments, and I could tell he was thinking. Assessing me a little, assessing us, how open he could be with me.
"It's all because of Dad," he said after a minute's contemplation. He gave me another quick, quiet, assessing look, and then he was talking again, almost nonstop. About wrestling, following in Big Jim's footsteps, the challenge of wrestling at a collegiate level, his hopes for the upcoming season, his last one. Most of all, how Big Jim was there for nearly every match, from his very first one. How much that meant to him, to have his dad there for him like that, and all the wisdom and advice he'd given him over the years.
So I took a chance. I pulled up another pic, one I don't generally share. It's a shot Caleb took of us one evening down in the rec room, me a little buzzed, as we sprawled out in the huge beanbag chair down there. Caleb sitting on the floor in front of it, leaning back between my shorts-clad legs, shirtless, resting his arms over my spread thighs, my arm half-round his neck, hand resting over his big bare pec. In the pic, we're looking at each other in an unmistakably intimate way. I keep this one in a private folder on the phone, something I usually use when I just want a little reminder of us, and him, and our special bond. Not one I would ordinarily share. But I showed it to big Kieran.
He took his time looking at it, his face unreadable. Then looked up, a quieter version of that five-star smile of his breaking out slowly, making deep eye contact with me.
"That's a real nice picture, AJ," he said. "You and your boy are real close, I can tell."
"Very much so, buddy," I said, brushing my knee against his. Feeling him push back a little, then staying connected. "I love him very much. Not every dad can say that he's got the bond with his son that I do with Caleb. These past few years, since my guy's started becoming a man, we've grown a lot closer, and it's been amazing."
I was still being carefully noncommittal, not putting myself on the line in case I was misreading the situation. But I was getting a little more suggestive, hoping Kieran could read between the lines, and that he'd feel comfortable opening up a little more to me too.
"I know what you mean, sir," he said, after a thoughtful moment. "I really miss my Dad. It's hard, being down here, miles away. He's always been there for me. It's just been us for so long, and well... yeah. I know it's not cool to say it, some people might think, but the hell with them - I love my Dad. Very much." He had a kind of wistful look on his face. I was getting the cues all right, clues that my intern was head-over-heels for his dad Big Jim. I took a chance, reached over and squeezed his big hand in mine, saw his eyes widen a little with surprise, then his smile spread.
"The hell with what people think, bud," I said. "Nothing - nothing - is greater, or more important, than the bond between father and son. Especially when you're men, and grown enough to understand that importance. Most don't get how deep it can run, Kieran, but I do. Believe me."
His eyes were big and kinda shiny, half from the liquor, half from the depth of our talk. But he was rapt, totally attuned to me, like there was nobody else in the world. Just him and me. My hand on his. An understanding beyond words. Between men.
I didn't want to get the kid drunk, even though he's a big, muscular dude - and a SigEp, so I knew he could hold his liquor. Just wanted to maintain the good buzz we had, the kind you get when you have a fine steak under your belt and some good, deep, manly conversation to go along with your bourbon. I didn't really want our day to end, and I could feel that he didn't either.
We talked about our families, and I learned more about him and Big Jim, how his mom had left when he was young, and the two of them had drawn closer together. How his being away at college was the first time they'd been separated this long. How he considered Big Jim his best friend, mentor, coach and father all in one. It was really touching. I talked about my bond with Caleb, who was getting particularly tight with me now that he was coming of age, and he just grinned and nodded and totally got it.
There was a depth to our conversation that's hard to describe, the rest of the world seeming to fall away, until it was just the two of us – two men in a plush restaurant booth, growing at ease with each other as we revealed more and more about ourselves, our families, the connections we both had. Building a connection to each other as we talked, too. It was quietly intense, powerful, and sensual in a way that's hard to put a finger on, exactly. But we understood each other, I could see that, and the more we talked, the more that unspoken conversation between us grew, too. Our knees kept touching, at first accidentally, and then with the sort of unforced, casual closeness men can sometimes have with each other, if they let themselves. It was the kind of bond I'd had with his dad, big Jim, and the kind of bond I had with my boy, too. The deeper our conversation flowed, the more we connected, and the stronger I started to feel about this handsome, talented young man in front of me. A strongly paternal feeling, to be sure, and a powerfully erotic one, too.
We were both surprised to see it was almost 4, and when he got up to go use the restroom, those flat-front pants of his couldn't hide the solid semi he was sporting. I guess our conversation had impacted him the same way it was doing to me, and that was incredibly gratifying. Another sign of our intense connection. He blushed a little, bowed over a bit just to kind of try to hide it, but I just grinned and gave him a wink and a nod, man to man. Watched his big, round, muscular ass as he walked to the head, and I signaled for the check.
"You got plans for the rest of the day, bud?" I asked when we got outside, waiting for the Uber to show up.
"No sir," he said. "I don't know so many people in town, and technically I'm not old enough to go hit the bars or anything, so..."
"Well, Caleb's got a game this evening. If it doesn't sound too boring, why don't you ride out to suburbia with me? All this bragging I've been doing about what a stud on the field the kid is, maybe I need you to give me a reality check on all my proud-dad bullshit," I said with a chuckle.
Kieran laughed, and waved that off.
"It's been awhile since I went to a Friday-night game, not since I was playing myself," he said, grinning. "I'd like that. But if it's alright with you, and we've got time, I'd like to swing by my place and get out of these work clothes..."
He'd rented a little furnished studio apartment for his internship – and real cheaply, he said, thanks to another SigEp connection - so we Ubered over there. The kid was adorably nervous all of a sudden, him and me in the little corridor as he fumbled out his keys to open the front door. You know that feeling, right? Almost like the next step on a really good date. Entering the unknown. But excited to go there, and see what would happen.
He apologized for the state of the place, but it was totally squared away. Not much bigger than a dorm room, honestly, and definitely neater than most dorm rooms I've been in. Just a queen-size bed with the covers tossed back, a faint young man's musk around it, a TV and a love seat. He stepped into the little walk-in closet, pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and said he'd be changed in just a minute. And then left the bathroom door half-open as he undressed, leaving me a clear view of him as he stripped down.
Damn. Nothing like a wrestler's ass. Especially encased in light grey Under Armour trunks, flexing as he stripped his trousers off his thick, muscular legs, the tanned muscles of his back bulging beautifully, flaring up from his tight waist into a wide V. When he bent over to pull his jeans up, those tin, muscular globes of his flexing inside of his shorts, I had to stifle an impressed, lusty grunt. It was a shame pulled the jeans up to cover his long, powerful quads and that stellar jock's ass, but they fitted him supremely well, encasing his ass in faded denim, riding low on his waist, just enough room in the thighs for him to move, while still showing off the thick power of his wrestler's quads. His chest was mostly smooth, the skin stretched tight across plates of prime young stud muscle, a trace of reddish-brown fur on his muscular, defined stomach flowing up to a neat little fur patch between the big, handsome plates of his pecs. I saw his abs ripple as he rolled the T-shirt down, and it fit just perfectly too, skimming his big chest and strong mid-section, the sleeves capped and short, highlighting his brawny shoulders and his big, chunky grappler's arms.
He was incredible – both the spitting image of his father, who'd been one of the hottest guys in our frat, if not our whole school, and a perfect physical specimen in his own right. Like he'd taken the impressive building blocks of Big Jim's genes, and improved them even further. Jim O'Malley was an incredibly lucky man. No wonder he was so proud of the kid.
I tried not to ogle him too much as I stood there, but he looked up, and caught me looking at him. We both blushed, but he smiled at me and nodded, then stepped half out of sight to take another leak, a long, hard stream of piss hitting the water like guys with a truly big dick seem to do.
I looked around a little. Saw the drawer of his bedside table part-open, and I swear I wasn't snooping, but I could see the edge of a framed picture in the drawer. I'm not proud of this, but I eased the drawer open, and there it was - a pic of him and Big Jim. I have no idea who took it, but it was unmistakably intimate. Kieran was leaned back in a hammock, shirtless, and Big Jim was reclined against the kid's chest, shirtless too, still impressively powerfully built, just a little middle-aged thickness rounding out his muscles, like I had now. Usually you'd expect to see the son leaned back against the father, like that pic I keep of me and Caleb, but this was the perfect reverse. Jim's arms were resting along his son's thick thighs, Kieran's forearms draped over his father's shoulders, hands resting on his hairy pecs. They were both looking off at something, and it was just a purely almost romantic photo. I'd love to know who captured that moment, because that pic said everything about their bond.
I stepped away and took the occasion to text my son. Suddenly I was thinking about him, and us, very strongly.
See you at the game, sport. >>Great Dad. I'm pumped for it. OK if I sleep over at Tyler's tonight? ;-P >If your mother's OK with it, of course.
Tyler was a teammate and Caleb's best friend. He'd confessed to me that he and Tyler had fooled around a bit lately - nothing major, just some light kissing and mutual stroking, typical teenage boy stuff, but Caleb wanted to take it to the next level. My young man had a crazy sex drive, and I was pleased to see him explore his sexuality beyond the bond we had. He frequently told him that our physical, sexual bond had opened something up inside of him that he wanted to explore more. I remembered how that was, and I encouraged him to do so, carefully and responsibly. As much as I loved him and loved the sex and the way it had deepened and intensified the bond between us, I wanted to make sure the incest thing wouldn't sidetrack him or close off his options.
I decided whether I should send a follow-up text to let him know Kieran was coming too. Caleb was always encouraging me to feel free to fuck other men, but I never had, since we'd started exploring together. I'd been faithful to my wife, even when she wasn't being faithful to me, and until Caleb had come to me and we'd crossed that line together, I'd thought the man-sex thing was something in my college past. Something to reminisce about, and stroke my cock remembering, and idly consider getting back into. But between work and Caleb, I told myself that what I had with my boy was enough man for me. It was already physical and intense and as exciting as anything I'd ever experienced. What more did I need, right now?
Kieran was making me reconsider that. I still wasn't entirely sure what was going on between us - maybe some harmless flirtation, maybe more. I was trying to suss out the relationship the O'Malleys had and was starting to pick up some real solid vibes that my gut instinct was right. But you never know. If Kieran was just indulging a daddy fantasy through double entendre, he wouldn't be the first guy his age to do it.
Despite my son's frequent encouragement to explore, I couldn't escape the feeling I was almost cheating on Caleb and our special bond. But this – Kieran – was a special circumstance. I thought about it for a moment, then texted back.
You know how you're always telling me I should try new restaurants? It may happen tonight...
That was our code word for play, to keep from being incriminating.
I got an instant reply.
Awesome Dad. Go for it! Have a good meal ;)
I heard the john flush, and I guiltily stashed away my phone. I blushed three shades of red when Kieran reappeared, coming into the room looking like pure frat stud perfection. That T-shirt sized just right, well-worn and washed and perfect, with "Montvale Wrestling" lettered across his big pecs. Those jeans showcasing a big swell of cockbulge. And then he slipped on a SigEp ballcap, the brim rolled and frayed perfectly, unlike the whole flat-billed thing young guys incorrectly seemed to think was cool lately. I could've fucked him right there and then. He'd perfectly transitioned from young business bro to frat jock stud god, seamlessly.
"Damn, buddy," I said - those few drinks under my belt had me a little loose, you know how it is. "Looking good, son."
His eyes kind of flashed at my use of the word 'son', and I could swear I saw that bulge of his shift. Felt my own firming up too. Then he smiled real big at me from below that ballcap brim.
"You too... sir," he said almost shyly, and I was getting the strong feeling I was going to fuck young Kieran O'Malley before the day was done. Call it intuition, call it experience – call it the memory of how Big Jim O'Malley had looked right before the first time we'd tangled naked together. Kieran O'Malley was the spitting image of his father in that moment right now.
But I didn't want to get ahead of myself. I wanted to take the time to let this play out, and see where it led us. For now, we headed out the door to go catch Caleb's game.
So, me and O'Malley took a train out to the suburbs, and by some miracle found an Uber to take us to the game. I guess I could've driven, my car was at the station, but we'd had quite a few drinks over lunch, and I didn't want to risk anything. Kieran fit right in with all the big brother types at the game, and in fact the dad of one of Caleb's teammates pretty much assumed Kieran was my eldest, home from college.
"Hey, it's great to see you could make it up for your little brother's game," the guy said to Kieran, before turning to me. "Your son's been a real credit to the program, Jacobs."
I was on the verge of correcting him, reminding him that Caleb was an only child. But my gut instinct spoke up again, and before I knew I was doing it, I just grinned and went with it. Slipped my arm around Kieran's thick neck like a proud father.
"Yeah, I'm damn proud of my guys," I said. "Wish I could take more of the credit, but all I had to do was step back and let them become the fine men they are."
Kieran looked at me with this big, almost playful grin, eyes twinkling as he joined me in the game.
"Thanks, Dad," he said with a son's modesty. "But we owe it all to you, me and Caleb."
I looked at him, big and handsome and grinning genuinely, like he really was my son, like we had that special kind of history between us. Let me tell you, I nearly threw a full-blown hardon right then and there.
I made small talk with the guy – I honestly had no idea who he was, my ex was more involved in the school-social side of things – and then me and Kieran made our way to the stands and found seats.
"Sorry, bud," I said, leaning in to talk low in his ear so we wouldn't be overheard. "I don't know why I went with it like that. Didn't mean to embarrass you, big guy."
"Hell, it's kind of fun," he said with a chuckle, giving me that twinkling-eyed smile of his. "I don't mind at all... Dad."
He locked eyes with me, and spread his legs a little, brushing his knee up against mine, the denim stretching tight on his thick wrestler jock thighs... and I'll be damned if he wasn't throwing wood. He saw me shoot my eyes down at it, then back to him, and he still had that grin, that look in his eyes. Playful. Interested. Game for anything.
"Your Dad's a damn lucky man, bud," I said to him. Testing those waters, going in further.
He leaned in a little, rested his hand on my thigh just real casually - and yet not, you know what I mean?
"So is your son, sir," he said. "Very lucky... Dad."
That did it. I was fully boned. That quiet intensity that had been humming between us all afternoon, running beneath our conversation, seemed to surge up in the air between us, almost a physical presence. As physical as the gentle, but firm press of his thick young thigh against mine. As real as the hardness of our cocks, straining at our pants as we dipped deeper into the current of this intense vibe between us. He flicked his eyes down at the crotch of my khakis - same ones I'd worn to the office - and he saw it. I felt his hand squeeze my thigh a little, then move off it. I was disappointed, of course, but we were in public. Had a certain image to maintain. And somehow, the subtle tease of it felt perfectly pitched to the pace of our growing bond. Like folding over the corner of the page in a book, something to come back to later. I swallowed hard and made myself break our intense gaze, looking toward the field as the game stirred to life.
The game was a good one, and Caleb really played his heart out. His best buddy Tyler – his potential fuckbuddy, I reminded myself, and felt a sense of lusty paternal pride in my strong, sexy kid - played at fullback, and together they really kicked some ass, working as a unit within the greater whole of the team. It was beautiful to watch, honestly. Come the end of the game, Caleb came over to the sidelines, where I was leaning on the fence waiting, O'Malley hanging back a little, deferentially. Damn, my boy was a sight to see, his blond hair pasted to his forehead with game sweat, handsome face lit up with a smile as he saw me, his uniform hugging tight to his athletic, on-the-verge-of-manhood young jock's body. I felt a surge of love, pride, and lust for my boy, and for the thousandth time since we'd become intimate, I thought to myself that I was the luckiest son of a bitch on the whole planet.
"Hell of a game, big man," I told my boy, and the smile that lit up his face just made me love him even harder. I grasped his hand in a firm handshake and clapped him on the shoulder, enjoying the quiet intensity of the quick, silent moment between us, and then saw him look over his shoulder to Kieran.
"Hey, I'm Kieran O'Malley, I work with your Dad," Kieran said, offering his hand to shake Caleb's. "You killed it out there, buddy. Your Dad talks about you all the time, and now I see why."
I let them chat for a minute, watching their easy, immediate friendly bond, two handsome young men entering the prime of their manhood just a few years apart. They seemed to take to each other almost instantly, and I felt that kind of paternal pride swell up even more strongly – pride in both of them. Then Kieran smiled at me and stepped away, giving me and my boy a minute on our own.
"Damn, Dad," Caleb said quietly, with that subtle, lusty edge he got in his voice with me lately when we were talking, just the two of us, man to man. "That dude's a freakin' stud. Nice work, big guy!"
I laughed real deep. Part of being tight-bonded with my boy like we were now was seeing him open up like that, being able to talk about guys physically with me, free to be hoenst and open and sexual, like a man. It was hot as fuck, having that common interest, that bond, that understanding, that freedom to be men together like that – just incredible.
"You heading to Tyler's, bud?" I asked. He nodded, gave me that knowing, sexy grin. I'd always figured my kid would grow up to be a real heartbreaker, and that was certainly coming true. He was definitely ready to explore a little, outside our bond, and I was absolutely behind him on that. "Well just be careful, and be respectful, OK son? Don't sacrifice your friendship just to get your load, alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I won't, Dad," he said, rolling his eyes, but I knew he got it. "You heading home, or...?"
He flicked his eyes at O'Malley, who was checking his phone a respectful distance away, and gave me a knowing grin.
"We'll see what the evening brings, huh kiddo," I chuckled with a wink, and mussed his sweaty blond hair. "Text me, and try to check in with your mother. We'll talk tomorrow. Love you, big guy."
"Love you too, Dad. I mean it," he said, and I wanted to lay a deep, wet kiss on him right there. Knew he did too. But we had to settle for a deep, tight hug, before we headed our separate ways.
O'Malley slipped his phone back into his pocket and smiled at me as I approached.
"Getting your plans for the night lined up, bud?" I asked.
"Nah, no plans," he said. "Checking the train schedule. I figure you probably want to head home, so I'll hop a train back into town..."
"Well, as it happens, I was gonna overnight in the city tonight," I said. "Been awhile since I had the night off, you know? Caleb's with his mother this weekend, so I'm left to my own devices."
"Well in that case..." he said, giving me that grin. "Let's get another Uber."
We wound our way back into the city, and decided along the way to hit a bar for a couple of beers, keep the loose, pleasant vibe going. He said he usually had a fake ID with him, but he'd left it back at the frat house by mistake, and hadn't gotten around to getting it sent to him yet. Looking the way he did, he could've passed for a guy in his mid-20s, especially with that reddish beyond-five o'clock shadow setting in on his handsome mug, so I figured we'd be OK if we didn't try to hit one of the more popular places, which suited me just fine. So we hit up a little lounge I knew, low-key and a more mature clientele, less of the post-work bro crowd - I mean, they're fun to look at, but they get on your nerves the drunker they get, you know?
I could feel the vibe between us even stronger, since that father at the game had mistaken Kieran for my son, and especially since the way Kieran had playfully called me "Dad", pressed his thigh to mine, and let me see the sizeable bulge in his jeans. I wanted to play that scene again. As if it wasn't already pretty electric between us, it was even better now, and somehow the conversation over our beers wound up at family again, fathers and sons, only even more layered with meaning now. Deeper.
"One more, buddy?" I said, lifting my empty glass, a nice beer buzz starting to settle in, now that the post-lunch bourbon buzz had mellowed.
He laughed, and patted his spectacularly muscled midsection ruefully.
"OK, but something light," he said. "I gotta watch myself, or Coach will kill me if I put too many pounds on before the season starts."
"I wouldn't worry about that," I said. "You look good, bud. Real damn good."
He grinned at me, gave me a slow once-over.
"So do you, sir," he said. "So do you."
"Another of these for me, and a Mic Ultra for my son here," I said to the bartender, and I swear I heard O'Malley let out a little grunt when I did. I definitely felt his knee graze along mine, and stay there.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asked a little later, at a lull in our easy conversation, as we were about done with the beers.
"Of course," I said. "Anything."
"What's your stance on... legalized pot?" he asked, and I could practically feel the nerves under his outwardly cool expression. In the low light of the bar, I could just about see him blushing. I smiled. I knew how bold of him it was to ask me that question. But we'd left the whole boss-intern thing behind awhile back, seemed to me. We were in a different space together now.
"My stance is," I said, leaning in so he could hear me over the music the bartender had turned up not long before, "it's about fucking time."
He grinned real big at that.
"Then maybe after this..." he began.
"Lead the way, buddy," I chuckled, draining my glass, pulling out my credit card and setting it on the bar. "Lead the way."
Trust a SigEp brother to have the best weed connection, wherever he goes. Or maybe he brought it from home with him, but either way, there we were, an hour later, me relaxing on the little love seat in his studio apartment, watching him pack a bowl in the tiny little kitchenette. He'd kicked off his sneakers and socks as soon as we got in the door, but otherwise was still fully dressed, including the ballcap, and he still looked like a million bucks. Me, I still had on the clothes I'd put on at 6am to head into work. I'd left my overnight bag in my office, planning on checking into the Hyatt down the block for my little Friday night break in the city, but Kieran insisted we pick it up before heading back to his place.
He came back in, handed me the bowl and a lighter with a slightly sheepish grin, and then watched with a little amusement as his boss took a deep hit on it. I don't smoke often – I kind of get off on being a respectable middle-aged business dude who enjoys a toke, though, and this was damn fine shit, even better than some of the stuff my solid weed connection turns up for me. I could already feel the pleasant fog settling in as I leaned back on the sofa and exhaled, watching him take and spark the bowl himself. He sat down on the side of his bed, adjacent to the sofa, but his place was so small, I could reach over and touch his knee, if I sat up and leaned into it a little. I filed that thought away for future reference and just watched him.
We passed the bowl back and forth until it was cashed, and then he leaned back, eyes already slitty, a blissful grin on his face. Leaned back on his hands like that, his powerful arms really bulged thick, and his T-shirt looked like it was melting onto the big, defined muscles of his pecs, abs and shoulders. I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and let my own high sink in.
"Damn, that's some nice shit, O'Malley," I said.
"Thank you, sir," he grinned. "I don't smoke a whole bunch, but on a quiet Friday night..."
"I hear you, man, I hear you," I smiled. "And look, enough with the 'sir' thing, OK? We're both SigEp men, and we're not in the office now. You can call me AJ."
He gave me a long, smiling look.
"Maybe, sir... uh, AJ," he said. "Sorry, it's hard to fight the manners Dad brought me up with. Even with a brother."
"I get you, it's cool," I said. "Your Dad's done a damn fine job with you, buddy, if you don't mind me saying. I bet he's justifiably proud of you, big guy."
"Thank you... AJ," he said with a slightly shy smile, looking at the floor. "I'm proud to be like him. And I can say the same for your son Caleb. Looks like he's turning into a fine man... like his father."
We exchanged another long, deep look. We were tiptoeing around the major taboo subject, and I couldn't help but notice it was Kieran now who seemed to be testing me as much as I was him.
"He is, and thank you," I said, trying to rise to the bait. "We've become very... close these past few years, and it's been good for us. Very good."
"I can see that," he said. "Fathers and sons should be close. Since Mom left and me and Dad got to be... where we are, it really changed my life. I credit him with everything I am. I can see that kind of closeness between you and Caleb. And I hear it when you talk about him. It's very inspiring to see other families that are like mine. Men like me and Dad."
He looked up at me from under the brim of his ballcap, our eyes meeting, and that electricity was an almost physical presence between us again. What he was saying felt – not like a challenge, exactly. Maybe an invitation to go deeper. I kept my gaze on his, giving him a slow, thoughtful, lightly stoned smile that he returned. Just a gleam of white teeth between his full, sensuous lips.
"Are we talking about the same thing, buddy?" I asked. Gutsy thing to say, but fuck - it just felt like we were on the cusp here, like we were talking along parallel lines that were just about to converge, at last.
He grinned at me. Another long, heavy oment passed between us before he spoke up. "What were we talking about? I'm pretty fucking baked."
It was the out he was giving me, maybe giving himself. There was an awkward silence as we sat there, feeling the effect of the pot. I wanted to keep pushing the conversation more, and I got the sense Kieran did, too. But ultimately, I guess we were both too chicken. I was a little disappointed in myself for not being a little ballsier, getting us over that hill. But hell, here I was, pleasantly stoned with a hot young dude on a Friday evening, no place else in particular to be. I resolved to try and just enjoy the moment, and not force anything. Just let whatever was gonna happen, happen organically.
He got up to pack the bowl again, and this time, sat down next to me on the sofa to offer it to me. I smiled at him, took the piece, hit it, then passed it back to him, casually slipping my arm along the back of the sofa behind him. It was a bold move, one that could have landed me in the HR office come Monday morning. But Kieran smiled at me, took his hit, then slowly exhaled. I felt the smoke cloud around me, and opened my mouth to inhale some of his exhalation. Something I used to do with his dad, back in the day. His eyes widened a little at that, his handsome mouth spreading in an interested grin.
I could see him working up his courage.
"You know... I don't know that calling you 'AJ' feels right," he croaked, watching me hit the piece again. "To be honest... I kind of liked how it was earlier... at the game... and then at the bar..."
He blushed, giving me that almost-shy look from under the brim of his ballcap. I blew out the smoke, watching his nostrils flare and his lips part subtly to take some of it in. Felt my cock tweak at the sight of him mirroring me like that. Just like Big Jim had done, back in his room at the fraternity house twenty-some years ago. The similarity between them, the memories of everything me and his dad had done together, the steadily building vibe between me and the big young stud all day today... it was electric.
"I liked that too... son," I said, and watched his cheeks flush a little more as he bit his lip a little. Cutest thing I ever saw. I passed him the bowl, and as he lit it up, I leaned in closer, squeezed his big, powerful thigh, and murmured in his ear.
"I'm going to be forward with you, O'Malley," I said in a deep, husky voice. "We've gotten to know each other real well today, so I'll ask straight up, and you can tell me to go fuck myself if I'm out of line, and there'll be no hard feelings. No repercussions. We're not boss and intern here, haven't been since we left the office this afternoon. We're friends, right?"
He nodded at me, eyes widening as he held the smoke, waiting for me to continue. My other hand reached up to graze the red-brown bristles on the back of his thick neck, and I felt him shiver lightly all over. I let a moment pass, eyes locked, giving the back of his neck a friendly, paternal squeeze. Felt him push his big, muscular young thigh a little more into mine.
"Are you... a dad's boy, son?" I asked.
He whimpered deep in his chest, staring hard at me, and when he exhaled the smoke in a rush, I leaned forward a little, mouth open, to catch it. He looked like he didn't know what to say at first. Just stared at me.
"Yes," he said almost softly, his voice firming as he straightened his shoulders, puffed up his big chest, and looked me square in the eye, like a man. "Yeah. I am. I love my Dad."
I was boned as fuck hearing him answer that way. And it was like he wanted to say more. I was going to encourage him, too. "Attaboy, son," I smiled, giving his neck another deep, paternal squeeze, like my own boy enjoyed. "You're a good man. A good son."
"I try to be," he said softly, "For him."
"Yeah?" I said. "You wanna please your dad?"
"Yessir. God, I miss him so fucking much, you know?" It was the first time I'd heard this clean-cut wrestler curse all evening, and it made his statement that much more impassioned.
"He misses you, too, bud. I bet he's real lonely right now. I bet he'd pay anything to trade places with me at the moment."
Kieran gulped, and gave me a direct look.
"You know, don't you AJ? You know about me and my Dad, what we do. Who we are."
"And who are you, Kieran? You and your Dad?" I said, quietly, encouragingly. He flushed bright red, but didn't break my gaze, I could see the pride and determination inside of him, struggling to break free and proclaim the truth of them.
"We're... we're lovers, AJ," he said, almost forcing it out. But saying it almost seemed like a weight lifted from his big, young shoulders. "Me and my Dad. Have been for years. And I think you know that, don't you?"
I looked at him for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"Only because my son and I... me and Caleb... we're the same way, son," I admitted. "Just like you and your Dad – that's me and my son, too."
Then I finally crossed the bridge, the one we'd been dancing ever closer towards all afternoon and evening. I leaned in and kissed him, and he melted into me with a husky little grunt. Lips parting, all funky and smoky, receiving my tongue, engaging with it, feeding me his own. Finally sharing our secret had opened the floodgates and turned us on even more. I ran my hand up the thickness of his inner thigh, found the log of his hard jock frat cock, and gave it a deep, slow squeeze along its length, making him moan into my mouth. The kid could kiss, and if I wasn't hard before, well, I sure as hell was now. Especially when his big hand trailed up my own inner thigh, found the hard bulge of my cock in my trousers, and he moaned into my mouth again.
We kept at it for a solid ten minutes, kissing deep, wet, luxuriating in the sensation of an intense, skilled mankiss. Not just a kiss between men, but a kiss between men who really understood each other. Understood what we wanted. Understood who we were. Finally arriving at the place we'd been slowly making our way towards all day long.
"Fuck... shit, AJ," he growled when we parted. His eyes were fiery, lusty, determined. A mix of the hard-charging wrestler jock he was on the mats, and the lusty young fuck stud he no doubt was in bed. Particularly with his Dad. I felt an intense pang of jealousy for Big Jim O'Malley in the moment.
"Where were you gonna stay tonight?" he said, wiping the spit from his lips.
"Hyatt," I grunted. "We got a deal with them. Why?"
"The hell with that," he said. "You don't have to go anywhere if you don't want to, sir."
I grinned at him, ran my hand up his thigh, cupped his hard young bulge again, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.
"What did I say about calling me 'sir', buddy?" I said.
"You can stay here with me tonight, if you want... Dad," he grinned, eyes sparking at the word, reaching over to run his own hand up my thigh, to the big, hard bulge of my paternal cock. "And you can call me 'buddy' all you want... but I think there's something you'd rather call me, isn't there?"
"You're god damn right there is... Son," I growled, and then he pounced on me again with a hungry noise, shoving me back deeper into the little love seat with his thick, honed wrestler jock bulk as he heatedly kissed me again.
I wrapped my arms round his muscled torso, my hands finding their way down to the big mounds of his rock-hard ass crammed into those well-worn Levis he had on, feeling the twin globes shift deeper into my grasp as he ground his ferociously hard young cock against mine, just like his tongue was grinding against mine inside my mouth. There was a lot of him on top of me, and only so much space on the little love seat, and even though my back was starting to twinge and my neck was craned at a hard angle, it was hard to give this all up. Already I was leaking like crazy into my underwear. But I needed more. We both did.
"Fuck!" I grunted as I pulled back from him a little. "We really gonna do this, buddy? Son?"
"Fuck yeah we are... Dad," he grinned, and came in for another quick, intense tongue-battle. "That is, if you want to... if this isn't weird..."
"O'Malley, I've wanted this fine ass of yours... and the rest of you... since the first day you turned up in the office," I said, squeezing the bulk of his big shoulders, giving him a serious look. "But I respect you above and beyond that. You tell me to go, and I'll go. We'll go back to work on Monday, and it'll be like this never happened. No harm, no foul. You've got my word on that."
I pulled his handsome head in for another kiss, loving how eagerly he met my tongue with his.
"But if you tell me to stay," I half-panted when I pulled back from his entrancing lips, "I'm going to fuck you into next week, son."
"Fuck, Dad," he growled. "I wanted you ever since I saw the way your cock bulged in that suit. Since I saw you eyeing me up. I won't feel guilty about a damn thing we do, and I'll still have that presentation finished and on your desk, 8am Monday."
His big hand cupped the back of my head firmly, the other reaching down to give the bulge of my cock a firm, yet gentle squeeze along its length, making me grunt with desire. He stared deep into my eyes with a real, fiery intensity.
"But tonight... and maybe tomorrow... you and me, boss... we're family. And in my family... in yours too, I bet... that means we get naked, and we get inside each other, and we make each other cum. You up for that, Dad?"
I stared at him, hard, both of us panting, flush-faced.
"Get your fucking clothes off, son," I growled, yanking at his belt.
"Yes sir... yes Dad," he grinned, scrambling up off me and tugging at his T-shirt, exposing his thick-cut abs, the line of reddish-brown fur bisecting his stomach, crawling up into a nice neat thatch between the creamy skin of his big, thick pecs. With a hungry growl of my own, I grabbed hold of his torso and latched my lips onto one of his big, stiff pink nips, hearing him moan, feeling his hand cup the back of my head, urging me on deeper, as I started to chew and suckle on the thick flesh. I had to have him, all of him, right now, so working together, we got his belt undone, his jeans skinning down his big wrestler legs, showing off the huge tent of his jock cock angled across his hip, staining the fabric of his UA trunks where he was steadily leaking precum. I manhandled his bulge, palming the wet spot at the head as he tugged his t-shirt the rest of the way off... and then set his ballcap back on his head, turned backwards. It was the perfect touch, and I kissed him hard, growling happily, to show him my appreciation, as his thick fingers undid my shirt buttons and pushed it off my shoulders.
It took a few seconds to yank my undershirt and my trousers off, and then it was his turn to attack my body, massaging and exploring the thick, powerful swells of my ex-receiver's beef. I was glad I'd kept in shape for my adventures with my own boy Caleb, who loved to get up close to his Dad's thickness, to see how he was going to look twenty years down the line. Still had plenty of the old, steely muscle beneath the swell of my middle-aged beef. I flashed back on an image of Big Jim O'Malley, how well he'd beefed up from his college-wrestler days, and I knew young Kieran here liked his ex-jocks, liked his big, thick men. As his fingers raked through the thick blond-brown fur on my stomach and chest, his lips latching onto my nip, I could tell he was real pleased with me too.
I pulled his handsome face up to kiss some more, feeling our five o'clock shadows rasp as we went deep, big hands pawing and squeezing each other's asses, pulling our leaking bulges into even deeper, harder contact as we ground up against each other. We were working our way backwards, towards the bed, and as the backs of Kieran's thighs hit the edge of the mattress, he planted his palms on my pecs to stop me.
"No matter what else we do tonight - and believe me, I am very game," he panted, "you gotta know this. My Dad... he's a bottom. Like, exclusively, pretty much. So there's one thing I've always craved, and never really had..."
"Your Daddy fucking you, right, son?" I murmured, stroking the side of his face, and the way he wrinkled his brow and nodded, his eyes going a little soft, seeing how well I understood him and his needs, told me just how much he needed that. How he'd been denied for a long time.
"Tonight, buddy," I half-whispered, letting my lips graze his. "Dad's gonna take your cherry, big guy. Make my boy a man."
He whimpered, and kissed me hard, and though I doubt he was cherry back there physically - an ass like that is just too damn good for most men to resist, and knowing Big Jim O'Malley as well as I did, he might have been a natural-born bottom, but he could throw one hell of a lusty assfucking too - it was a whole different story mentally, emotionally for him. A father knows these things, and even though we weren't blood, in this moment, we were very much family.
"Why don't you get Daddy wet, son?" I asked, pushing down on his broad shoulders, and he sank to his knees, looking up at me with an awestruck mix of worship and respect, before slowly kissing the length of my cockbulge. When he reached the head, where the fabric of my boxer briefs was soaked with the continuous bubbling flow of precum I was streaming, he encased the whole tip between his lips and suckled with a soft little grunt that had me moaning.
Big Jim O'Malley had taught his boy well, taught him how to handle a man's cock with the right mix of respect, hunger and attentiveness, and Kieran showed me just how close he and his Dad were as he hauled my seven inches out, his eyes excited and appreciative and hungry as he stroked it. Then he wrapped his lips around the head and steadily, relentlessly swallowed me to the root.
Jesus christ. My boy Caleb had some serious, natural talent with this – like father, like son, I guess... - and when he'd finally mastered the art of opening his throat to really swallow my thickness, I don't know who was prouder, him or me. But Kieran here, hell - he was a master craftsman of swallowing cock. All I could do was grab the edge of his headboard with one hand, the back of his ballcapped head with the other, and hang on as the big auburn-haired wrestler jock took me on possibly the greatest ride I'd ever been on.
Kieran looked up at me with those big blue eyes of his, full of fire and lust and determination, as he worked on me. He had one hand wrapped round the base of my cock – not because he couldn't take it hands-free, but to keep it held at the perfect angle so he could really show me what he was doing, as he wrapped his tongue around the underside of the top half of my cock, lashing it slowly and lovingly, before sinking his full lips slowly down the girth of me.
"Fuck yeah, son," I growled, giving the back of his ballcapped head a slow, encouraging rub, feeling nearly as proud of him as I did my own hot son when he did this for me. Calling him that sparked Kieran even further, making him moan around me, sending vibrations all through the core of my dad cock, down to my balls, resonating through my prostate and my loins.
His hardworking tongue was like a fat, slick sheath of velvet on my glans, pulling the precum out of me as he did his damnedest to wrap his tongue around the entirety of my head and furiously work it over. His hand slipped down to cup my big, full dad balls, working them over slowly, carefully, treating them like he'd treat his own. I pictured him giving Big Jim, his own father, the royal treatment like this, and that got my cum-makers churning even harder. Now that his hand was off the base of my shaft, his lips were free to sink all the way down into the dark-blond thickness of my bush that grew around the fat base of my cock. I could feel his spit trickling into it, over my balls, and I just luxuriated in the rare treat of a truly sloppy suckjob from a very hot, talented and willing young jock stud. It definitely took me back to my days in SigEp, and I got a sudden dose of déjà vu, remembering how Big Jim O'Malley loved to work our cocks over just like this. Like father, like son, I thought again with a smile.
Usually it can take a good while to get me off with head, no matter how good the dude is, but within five minutes, I could feel my big balls roiling, my thighs trembling, that tell-tale glow deep in the pit of my belly warning me of an impending orgasm - and a damn serious one, too. So I reluctantly pulled the handsome young stud's bobbing head off my cock - the sight of his spit strands stretching from my cockhead to his full lips made my dick throb even harder, visibly bobbing in the air between us - and pulled him up to kiss him, tasting the salty musk of my cock on his tongue, in his spit as he hungrily fed it to me, growling in the back of his throat as we traded thick spit back and forth. My hands slid inside the sides of his UAs, exploring the deep-dimpled contours of that prize-winning grappler's ass, loving how he flexed his powerhouse glutes for my appreciation and kissed me with even more fervor as I manhandled his prime jock butt. Slowly I worked the trunks down the thickness of his thighs, big and creamy from mid-thigh up, tanned brown below, and then he was naked except for his SigEp ballcap and an eager, expectant smile.
He moved with me as I turned him around, pressed between his muscled shoulders and pushed him face-down on the bed, that blue-ribbon ass rising up to meet me, flexing, shifting and dimpling beautifully enough to make me grunt with lust as I fell to my knees before it. I started to lick and kiss my way over the muscled swells, parting his cheeks to the lightly red-furred valley between them, sinking my face steadily deeper into the creamy firmness of his ass, loving how he moaned and grunted and pressed his epic glutes even more against my face. Loving the scent of him, all man, deep and musky, growing more intense as I licked at his pucker, feeling it twitching against the onslaught of my tongue. A taste I knew well from my own boy Caleb, from my own frat-days adventures. A flavor I'd loved ever since my first taste of it back in high school, chowing down on our studly young assistant coach's muscular tail.
"Oh shit, Dad..." Kieran moaned, bucking his muscled ass even more against my face, and then I pushed harder with my tongue and I was inside of him.
I don't know if Big Jim O'Malley ever ate his boy out like he deserved, but I gave him the best rimjob I think I've ever given, and I've given more than my fair share. My spit was dripping down my chin, onto the carpet, my fingers sinking into the creamy mounds of his ass as I spread him wider, his rich, tart musk flooding my mouth as I buried as much of my tongue as I could get up inside of him. I could've done it all night, until his big hand grasped the back of my head.
"You gotta fuck me now, man," he moaned as I came up, gasping for air. "Fuck me now, Dad. Fuck your boy. Fuck me with the cock you made me with, big guy."
I couldn't help but growl at that. Caleb was just beginning to really get the power of deep dirty talk, and Kieran could've taught him a thing or two about how to get his Dad wound the fuck up, for sure. I flashed on a mental image of big Kieran and young Caleb, naked and side by side at my feet, Kieran imparting his sexual wisdom to my eager stud son like a big brother would. Damn, that set my cock to twitching even more, as if it needed any help...
"You got a rubber?" I panted, standing up and slowly fisting my precum-slick cock.
His eyes met mine as he shook his head.
"There's nobody else," he said. "Not like this. Not for a couple years now. Just me and Dad. You?"
"Like this? No... just me and my boy. And he only plays bare with me."
"Then do it, AJ... do it, Dad," he said, and the need in his eyes was powerful and palpable. The same kind of need I'd seen in my own son's eyes when he'd begged me to fuck him, the night I finally gave in and took his jock kid cherry. "I trust you. Just please... fuck me, Dad."
I yanked the bedside table drawer open, and there, right beside that framed pic of him and his father was his lube. Of course, I thought, smiling, as I grabbed the bottle and upended it down the length of my cock, glazing it with my other hand, before thumbing the excess all over his ring, making him buck and moan and press back again. I pushed the thickness of my lube-slicked thumb up against his auburn-haired ring, loving the way he moaned and the muscles all over his back and arms twitched, as he pushed back and made my thumb pop inside.
"Oh fuck yeah, son," I growled, loving the nasty, sexy sensation of thumbing his tight jock hole open, pushing it up deep into him, as far as I could get it. Slicking him up good. Working it up inside of him as that sensational ass spread and bucked back, as he sucked me into the hot, clutching tightness of his core.
I spent a good few minutes, first with my thumb, then my fingers, one, then two, watching him stretch wider to receive me, probing inside of him, feeling him loose, seeing his big, perfect muscles tense, then relax as he opened up for me. And then, I pressed something more substantial than my thumb to that slicked-up knot of tight jockboy muscle - the glossy, leaking head of my cock.
"Bear down, buddy," I murmured, running my hand up and down the big, muscle-swollen expanse of his back soothingly, rubbing the small of his back in circles like you pet a cat, and pressed the throbbing tip of my lubed-up dad cock more firmly against him, feeling him start to give, a little bit at a time.
"You gonna let Daddy inside you, big guy?" I said almost softly as I stroked his quivering young muscles. "Open up for your old man? Let me put the cock I made you with inside of you, son?"
The dirty talk helped do the trick, just like I suspected it would. I felt him push back, bearing down, opening up, letting me push the fat throbbing flesh of my cockhead into him.
"Ohfuckohshitohfuck," he moaned, but he opened up, he took me in, and even though I tried to take it slow, soon I was inside him all the way down to my thick dark-blond bush, pushing in one long, steady thrust that had his big, beautiful body squirming. I could see his handsome face scrunched up with the effort and discomfort of it, but he was a tough kid, a warrior, an athlete, and he pushed through it to get his just reward.
He took me like he was born to this, closing in tight all around me, wrapping the length of my big dick in pulsing, encasing heat, like velvet all around my cock. I thought back to the first time I copped my son's cherry this way, but that just made me want to cum, remembering the sensation of opening Caleb's beautiful, muscular teen jock ass up with my daddy dick. So instead, I tried to think about the presentation Kieran was editing for me, going over it line by line in my head, anything to keep my mind off the intensity of the sensations, the beauty of his body, the aching way he moaned out "Ah Daddddd" as I began to fuck him.
Grunts. Moans. The rhythmic slap of my hips against his big, muscled ass. The wet, squelching sounds of a well-lubed cock reaming out a tight hole. It all filled the room, surrounding us both. Took me back to those heady, lusty days back at the SigEp house, burying my college-boy bone up Kieran's father's equally beautiful wrestler jock tail. Total sense memory.
"Awww yeah Dad, fuck me," Kieran moaned huskily, pulling me back into the present with him.
The closer I got to the edge, the more I wanted to see his face. See his eyes when I bred him for the first time - my first time breeding him, and from the sound of it, maybe the first time anybody had done him this way.
"Want to see you, son," I panted, pulling out until just my head was inside of him, and with his wrestler's flexibility and agility, he managed to turn himself over, rotating himself on the head of my cock, making me moan again as I helped him over. And then there he was, big and beautiful, his creamy redhead's skin all flushed and sweaty, his cock slicked with his own manly juices and throbbing hard and red-tipped against his muscled stomach, staring up at me with lusty, awestruck eyes.
"You gonna breed me up, Dad?" he panted, and all I could do was nod.
"Good," he grinned. "Do me, then. Fuck your cum into me, big guy. Breed your boy up right."
Damn, I must've done something right in my life, to wind up here, sliding the full length of my big, bare Dad cock up inside this handsome, epically built young Ivy League wrestler jock. I leaned over him, pistoning my cock deep inside of him, and he curled up, abs crunching beautifully, meeting my panting mouth with his and teasing my tongue out and into his mouth. We kissed as hard and deep as we could, trading spit and moans and breath, and when he hooked his muscular calves over my ass and pulled me deeper, I was a goner.
"Gonna cum, son," I moaned. "You ready, buddy? Ready for Dad's load, kid?"
"Born ready, Dad," he half-wailed, and I set onto the home stretch, fucking fast and hard and deep, knowing he could take it, that he was built for this.
Just as I was feeling the unstoppable build, his whole face contorted.
"You gonna cum for Daddy, baby boy?" I moaned, our eyes locking. "Show me, son... show me the cum my boy makes for his man."
"Oh shit... cumming, Dad!" he yelled, and then his big cock bounced, his muscles flexed all over, and he began to fire, creamy rockets of thick, rich jockboy jizz splatting onto his sweat-glowing skin, streaking across the taut flex of his primed young muscles. His ring tensed around my thickness as he shot and shot, and that pulled my load up out of my balls, roaring up the shaft of my cock before jetting up inside of him, and together we growled and grunted and shook through our orgasms, his hands gripping the back of my neck, our eyes locked on each other's.
Once the aftershocks of my orgasm had finished ripping through me, I flopped down on the bed beside him, both of us panting, and then we looked at each other, grinned, and started to laugh. I slipped my arm under his neck and curled the big kid into me, half on me, his cum cooling and sticky against me, nuzzling his sweaty forehead as he stroked my chest and stomach.
"Jesus, big guy," he chuckled. "Holy shit. That was even better than I imagined it'd be."
"Right back at ya, buddy... son," I grinned. "Glad I could scratch the itch."
"I think you just managed to make it worse, Dad," he laughed, then kissed me, slow and soft. A special postcoital tenderness to it, full of the kind of intimacy only a father and son truly know.
Eventually, Kieran climbed up off the bed, and damn but he was a beautiful sight, that big, fresh-fucked ass flexing as he walked into the little kitchenette to grab a couple beers from the fridge.
"I think we can consider that your interview for a full position after your internship, buddy," I said as he came back to bed, handing me a beer.
"Well if this is what Fridays in the office are like, sign me the fuck up," he laughed, and leaned in to kiss me some more.
"But seriously though, AJ," he said when we parted again, a serious look on his face. "I don't want you to think any differently of me at work because of this."
"Buddy, I was already thinking about you like this at work," I grinned.
"You know what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes and play-punching my arm. "I mean... this should be separate from that. Just like, you know... you've got your son. I've got my Dad. But we could still have this, you and me, too... if you wanted it."
Suddenly the big, confident young jock looked awkward, even a little shy, uncertain. I cupped his big square chin in my hand and pulled him in to kiss again, slow and tender and full of meaning. Like a father should kiss his son.
"Any success you have in the office, you've earned on your own merits, bud," I said. "And yeah, of course I want to explore this more, you and me. You think after a day like today, the way we've gotten to know each other before we got to this point, the things we've done - you think that makes for a one-shot deal? No way, buddy. We've got a connection, son." He smiled, kissed me yet again.
"Besides, an ass like this... damn," I chuckled, cupping the hard curve of it, squeezing the solid, thick muscle. "And I still want to experience this big jock dick of yours sliding up my tail too, kid."
"Yeah, for real?" he said with an excited grin, and for the thousandth time today, seeing the top jock son in him showing so clearly and eagerly, I was jealous as hell of my old friend and fuckbud, Big Jim.
"Of course," I chuckled. "The key to success in business is versatility."
"Oh man," he said, rolling his eyes again. "Look, just because we connect on a dad-son level, doesn't mean you can bust out the dad jokes, OK?"
I playfully cuffed the back of his head, and yeah, maybe we weren't biologically bound, but still, I could see that son's adoration in his face for me. Damn, this had all moved so quickly, happened so suddenly... but it felt right, too. We really were connected, because we both understood this thing, how close a father and his son could be, better than just about anybody else.
"About that," I said, getting serious. "You going to tell your dad about this?"
Kieran blushed, looked away for a moment, then nodded.
"Sorry, AJ, I tell him everything. I'd feel like a real heel if I kept this from him. Besides, he's been telling me to have fun this summer and not be celibate. `Sow your wild oats, son,' were his exact words. But a part of that is letting him know I'm being responsible. Doing it right. Doing right by him, y'know?"
I nodded, understanding perfectly. I didn't need to know everything about what my boy got up to, but especially when it came to Caleb, I had a father's need to keep tabs on him. Because what he did alone affected what we did together. I was glad my boy understood that, and somehow, being able to share with each other gave us more freedom when we were together. And beyond that, of course, I got a deep sexual kick out of hearing about my studly kid's exploits. Knowing Big Jim O'Malley as well as I did, I just knew he was wired the same way.
"Kind of like Caleb," I said, sipping on my beer. "I think he knows we were going to connect, you and me. The kid practically gave me his blessing at the game tonight."
"Yeah?" Kieran said with an amused look. I nodded and grinned.
"I don't know how you might feel about this, bud... but I'm hoping maybe you might like to get to know my son better."
That put a sparkle in his eyes. "Like father, like son, huh big guy?"
He chuckled and ran his hand up and down the meat of my thigh, his big grappler's hand just barely grazing the sticky head of my cock where it rested, happily spent.
"For me, I usually go for older men. Guys like my dad. Like you, AJ," he said. "But I think... knowing he's your boy, that's a real turnon. And you know, being an only child... I've kind of always wondered what it'd be like to have a little bro, sometimes..."
I growled at that, flashing back on that earlier image of the two of them, working together to work me over. I reached for the back of Kieran's neck and pulled him in for a brief, but deep kiss.
"Caleb would be thrilled, buddy," I said. "He thinks you're a total stud."
"Yeah?" Kieran laughed.
"Yeah, and I agree with him 100 percent," I grinned. "And he's an only kid too – I bet he'd love the chance to have a big bro. Especially one like you. Somebody to teach him all the things a big brother should. Somebody to share things with. To share the bond with somebody who understands."
"Damn," Kieran said, reaching down to tug on the thickness of his big jock dick, and I wasn't surprised to see it twitch and thicken a little in response. Ah, to be twenty again...
"He's a hot dude," he went on, running his hand up and down through the sweaty, matted fur on my stomach, up between my pecs. "Just like his Dad. I think it'd be fun to get to know him better."
"Like family?" I asked, with a grin he matched.
"Fuck yeah, like family," he smiled, leaning up to trade a long, slow, sensuous kiss with me that went on for several minutes, his big young cock steadily engorging against the thickness of my thigh as we swapped spit lazily.
"You know, I don't want to tell tales out of school, Kieran," I said after we eventually broke the kiss. "But me and your dad... well, we have a bit of history ourselves."
He gave me a look that was half surprised.
"You mean...?" he said.
"You're not the first O'Malley I've fucked," I finished for him, nodding, with a shit-eating grin.
"Oh god damn, Dad," he growled.
God, did that rile the young jock up. He practically pounced on me, his hungry, open mouth crashing into mine, and sucked the air out of me, while grinding his rapidly boning dick into my hairy stomach.
"Maybe we can all arrange..." I started, when I managed to come up for air between hungry, mouth-reaming kisses from the horned-up young jock.
"Oh fuck yeah," Kieran growled, cutting me off again with another searing, searching wet kiss. "All of us, together... as family? Duuuuude..."
Yeah, he got it – he was a family guy to the core, alright. Just like me.
In no time at all, we were ready to roll into our second go-round. This time, I reached into his bedside drawer again, pulled that framed picture of him and his Dad out, and set it on the bedside table. Kieran looked momentarily surprised, then gave me a grin that was pure young horniness. He looked more and more like his father every minute, I swore.
"Fuck yeah, Dad," Kieran said with a devilish grin, grabbing hold of me like the champion wrestler jock he was and flipping me over onto my back effortlessly, before sliding his big, beautiful body up the length of mine to devour my mouth again. This time, we let Big Jim watch us as Kieran demonstrated his dadfucker's prowess, my studly young intern rocking my world as he masterfully fucked his boss, his summer-substitute Dad.