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Subject: Naval Tradition Revised 34 Naval Tradition REVISED EDITION Bill Drake (ail) with Corporal Cody NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ADULTS ONLY. It is gay erotic fiction explicitly depicting sexual acts between men, including male relatives. If that offends or disturbs you, read no further. Thanks to all the great work that the Nifty Archive does and the writers it publishes. Please consider supporting them with a donation. This is the revised and retconned version of Naval Tradition, told in chronological order. While the overall story is the same, there is lot of new content here (and some of the old parts didn’t make the cut in this version). This revision has been a collaboration with fellow writer Corporal Cody. My thanks to him for his considerable contributions to and inspiration for this version. Feel free to drop a line if you enjoy it: ail. I hope to have a (free) ebook version at the end of this, so you can let me know if you want to be on the mailing list for that. PART FIVE: LOOKING FOR MR. RIGHT Chapter Thirty-Four Norfolk and Baltimore, Spring 2005 I don’t think Dad was trying to be standoffish when I next visited back home, but he seemed moody somehow. A little less talkative with me, a little more focused on my brother Matt. Maybe some of it was work. My father would start his time at sea in a couple of weeks, and I knew that his upcoming tour was on his mind. But it was hard for me not to read Dad’s mood as guilt, now that he was in family mode with Matt there as well. It was like Dad had to reconcile the recent memory of sex with me along with his role as a father. For my part, I knew not to step outside the father-son boundary this weekend. I’d come home for Easter weekend, driving down Saturday after my game. Matt was there, already, home on leave from his advanced flight training, and he and Dad were sitting out on the deck, already having beers before dinner. I got an immediate firm hug from my brother. “Hey Squirt,” he said before stepping aside to let my Dad greet me. As I sat down Matt handed me a freshly cracked beer. We sat around the patio table and talked before Dad decided it was time to fire the grill up. Matt was in an especially chatty mood that evening, his boyish dimples showing and his blue eyes alive as he filled us in on his training and describing some naval aircraft he’d soon be flying. Matt had always been a social guy in high school, but now that my brother was a full-fledged Ensign, he seemed to be even more of an extrovert than before. I was finally getting used to seeing his chestnut brown hair in a short military cut. Matt had always been objectively attractive. But he made me wonder if that military air about him only made his McGrath good looks even hotter. It was great having my brother around, and it was almost like we hadn’t been apart for the past few years. We talked about everything as the both of us stood around Dad as he grilled out some burgers for dinner. It wasn’t a warm evening, but it was mild for late March, with extra layers – a Virginia Baseball hoodie for me, U.S. Navy fleece jackets for Dad and Matt – it was actually nice to be able to be outdoors. It seemed to me that Matt had taken a shine to the Navy’s drinking culture, and it was fun to do my best to keep up with him as the night went on. The beer picked me up too, and I felt bad for having been inwardly focused more on my own issues. I didn’t get to see Matt often, so I knew I should just enjoy the time I had with him and Dad. At some point, Dad called it an early night and left me and Matt to stay up talking and drinking late out on the deck after we’d cleaned up dinner. Matt and I plopped ourselves in the deck chairs and enjoyed our beers in the cool night air. It was the first alone time I’d had with my brother in quite a while, and I told him all about school, baseball, and my nonexistent dating life. Matt wasn’t laidback like Paul or emotionally supportive like John. But he seemed more philosophical as he tried to reassure me. “You know the cliché, you can have a great job, great friends, and a great love life – but not all three at the same time?” I shook my head. “Hadn’t heard of that,” I admitted. Matt grinned and took another sip of beer. “Well, it’s a bullshit theory,” he laughed. “But sometimes, what you don’t have now, will happen later. I mean, fuck, Jim…” I was starting to realize that my brother was just as buzzed as I was from an evening of drinking. “I know I’m biased because you’re my little bro, but you’re a fucking catch, Jim.” I was about to modestly object when Matt reached back into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said with a smirk as he fished out a bill and slapped it on the deck table. “Twenty bucks says you’ll have a boyfriend within a year.” *** The next morning Dad seemed to be back to his normal self. Matt and I were just a tad hungover as we helped him get things ready for our Easter dinner with Dad’s Navy friend, Commander Cal Morrison, and his wife. Dad and I chatted just like we always did as we loaded up the wrapped baked ham in the back of his Acura. Part of me was mystified by my father’s mood shifts, but I figured I could be moody myself, so why shouldn’t he have the right to be as well? We were in some pretty heady territory, trying to fit fooling around into a normal father-son relationship. Instinctively, I knew to give him space. By mealtime, things felt refreshingly normal. Family time, and time with family friends. It was a low-key but good time, and Dad was in a social mood. He seemed to enjoy family time, even though it was just me and Matt home for the holiday. I could read it in his face as he talked to Matt: he was glad my brother could come visit. Matt was still single, which understandably made coming home easier. But who knew how long that would be. I had driven over in my car, since I knew I had to leave after our mid-afternoon dinner. I tried not to rush. But around 4, I thanked the Morrisons and announced I had to hit the road. I gave Matt a tight hug before Dad walked me to the driveway to see me off. “Thanks for coming home, Jimbo,” my father said into my ear as we held tight to each other for a quick moment. “Drive safe. And let me know when you get back.” It felt like a long drive back to Charlottesville, and it gave me time to think. And I came to the realization that I was the one who had been feeling moody that day. **** Sometimes the stars align. The morning after I got back, I was in my apartment getting ready to head to campus when Dad called to see if I was free the following Monday. “I got a couple of tickets to Opening Day, Slugger,” he said with clear excitement. I knew immediately he was referring to the Orioles. “Wanted to see if you were interested in an overnight trip to Baltimore.” I set down my backpack. I was definitely interested. Whether I could was another matter. But as I tried to think if there was a reason I couldn’t go, I realized there was nothing stopping me. UVA didn’t have a baseball game that day, and it was even a non-practice day. I had a Monday morning class but would be all done by 10. “Um, yeah, Dad, that sounds amazing,” I said, the thrill of attending the start of the season quickly sinking in. “Great,” he said. Leave it to the O’s to give Dad that kid-like enthusiasm. “I’ll swing by to pick you up. I’ll get you back to campus bright and early Tuesday.” “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I joked. Dad’s tendency to get up early each morning was a running joke in our family. “Glad you can go, Slugger,” he said. “It’ll be great to see you one more time before I ship out.” **** In all these years, this was my first time at Opening Day. Sure, it had always been on the television growing up, a sure sign of spring’s arrival. For those of us into baseball, there’s almost a religious, ritualistic quality to the occasion. A sign of hope for the upcoming season and the end of the wilderness of the major league’s off season. It was always great to be in Camden Yards, and the energy in the air was especially palpable that day. It helped that the Orioles took an early lead over the A’s and were able to maintain it. Particularly as the bats went silent in the latter innings. With Opening Day, the weather is always a crapshoot. In fact, it’s usually cold and rainy. But that day had nice spring weather – mild and sunny. I had on just my orange O’s sweatshirt hoodie, ballcap, and some jeans. Dad was wearing a Navy-logo, zip-up fleece and his favorite, well-worn, faded-black Orioles cap, one he’d had for at least a decade. It hadn’t been all that long ago when my Uncle Mike was in an A’s uniform, and I had to think there would have been some divided loyalty. But now, an O’s win was a great way for the season to start. Dad and I sipped our beers out of plastic cups and talked about the O’s lineup, assessing their chances for the season. After the game, we grabbed a burger and walked around the Inner Harbor a bit, taking in the post-game energy and enjoying the extra hour of daylight savings time. “Feel like grabbing another beer?” Dad asked, jovial and in an especially good mood. My father could be a work-hard kind of guy. But when he had some down time, he could definitely enjoy himself like any other Navy man. Growing up, I’d seen mostly the responsible family man, but he had occasions, like the Army-Navy game or fishing weekends, where I think he was able to party with his hard-drinking buddies. I was honored to be included in Dad’s company now that I was grown up, and a beer did actually sound great. But if I was honest, so did something else. “I could,” I replied with a shrug. I looked over at him walking next to me, hands in the pockets of his jeans. The fading sunlight was hitting Dad just right, and I took in the sight of his handsome profile once more – his dark, thick straight hair peeking out from under his faded ball cap along with the growing streaks of gray at his temples, his ridged brow, his distinguished Roman nose, and his deepening 5 o’clock shadow swathed across his prominent square jaw. Even his familiar, favorite, form-fitting fleece turned me on. “But you said before, I could ask you for… it,” I ventured. “…If I wanted to.” We were in public so I had to speak in a guarded, more coded manner. My suggestion caught Dad by surprise, but he knew what I was referring to. Having sex again. As he reacted to my words, I worried I’d killed the mood. But I also knew I needed şişli travesti to enter this arrangement as an equal. If Dad could ask for sex, then I could as well. Dad could always say no, and both he and I knew that I’d respect it if he did. But I wouldn’t be too scared to ask for what I wanted. He slowed his stride and turned to look at me. Dad arched one of his eyebrows a little, staring back intently with twinkling gray eyes. “I could be up for that,” he said with a hint of a grin, simply. He gave a little nod in the direction of our hotel. “Head back to the room?” I was getting excited by the second. “Yeah,” I nodded, feeling a little breathless. I was glad to see a smirk on Dad’s face as we casually made our way back to the hotel. I’m sure I had an expression to match his. It was all back, the sexual anticipation, along with that sense of naughtiness. I still didn’t know fully what went on in Dad’s head – and probably never could – but I was increasingly aware that he enjoyed the taboo element of our connection, too. When we finally stepped back into the hotel, there was almost a sensory memory to the smell of the Marriott hallway, the feel of the central air, and the sound of the keycard reader and clack of the door lock as it opened. As Dad and I walked into the dim and silent room, I took note of his confident gait. And I found myself subconsciously imitating it as I walked in after him. Without flipping on any lights, Dad pulled off his worn Orioles cap and stopped in the middle of the room in front of the two beds. Brushing his hair back with his fingers, he turned to me. He had a look of quiet lust on his face, and it was almost like his eyes were undressing me as he looked appreciatively up and down my body. For all of my times with Dad, I felt something new within me this time. Not only was Dad sexually attracted to me, but I could tell he was appraising how I’d developed since Mexico. I’d put on at least ten pounds of brawn since a year ago, and I was getting a real athlete’s body – balanced and muscular. Possibly Dad had noticed before, but this was the first time I felt it. Pride in my looks, my body, and just feeling like a stud. That confidence was a novel feeling, but I loved it. I smiled. And Dad smiled in return. “You’re looking good, son,” he said, as if it were a normal compliment for a man to give his son. I could already hear the sexual edge enter his baritone voice. “You, too, Dad,” I said, unconsciously widening my stance and correcting my posture to display myself at my best. “You turn me on so much,” I ventured, going further into the forbidden territory. Dad nodded a shallow nod. Smirking, because he already knew it, even before I said it. He knew I lusted after him, deeply, and had for a while. Still, the man appreciated the compliment. He unzipped his Navy-logo fleece but didn’t make any move to remove it. Beneath, he had on a white polo shirt that clung to his meaty torso and stretched across the expanse of his jutting chest, the fabric pulled tight enough for me to see the nubs of his nips poking through. The unbuttoned placket parted to show off a slice of his downy chest hair. My dick plumped in my jeans as I perved on my father, openly this time, before lifting my eyes to meet his. “So, Slugger… anything particularly on your mind?” he asked as he watched my face. Dad adjusted his stance and puffed his chest a bit. If this were like before, we would have been kissing and embracing. But maybe talking about sex was our foreplay now. I nodded and continued to enjoy the sight of him in front of me. “Am I free to ask for a favor, sir?” Given what I was going to ask, my tone was more deferential. Dad seemed more cautious, but agreed. “Yes. I’m free to say no, but you’re free to ask, son.” My heart pounded. “You remember when you shaved me down in Mexico?” My father nodded, and I could tell he was a little surprised. “You want that again?” I shook my head as I gave him a small smile. “No. Not that. But afterwards… when you fucked me…” God, it was so hot to verbalize that, to talk about him fucking me. Out loud, with Dad, to Dad. “That night… you went a little harder than you did before.” Dad’s demeanor was a bit chastened. “Sorry, son,” he said softly. “I can get a little carried away.” I almost interrupted him, I was so quick to interject. “No, Dad. I loved it,” I blurted out. He reacted with a quiet curiosity, so I continued, “I’ve thought about it a lot. I want that again, only…” This was harder to ask for than expected. But I thought about what Brian, my ex-Navy fuckbuddy, had told me. About not being afraid to ask for what I want. “I want it harder,” I said, simply. “Fuck, Jim,” Dad exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath. His muscles shifted beneath his fleece and polo. It seemed like his whole body was affected by my confession. I could tell he was turned on by my request, but also concerned. I somehow got the feeling that Dad felt like he was either blessed or cursed with such a long thick cock. I suddenly wondered if there had been a lot of men and women who didn’t dare let Dad fully plow their holes with such an impressive weapon. “What you’re asking for, Jim… I don’t know….” Dad muttered, his gray eyes cautiously examining my face. “I do, Dad,” I said. “I want to feel what it’s like with you… being more dominant, you know.” I tried to read his sexually charged but conflicted face while my voice was full of emotion and sexual need. “You don’t gotta, but I gotta ask… or I’ll regret it.” Dad’s eyes watched my face as he seemed to mull it over. The way his body tensed, it was like he was trying to fight his urges. That’s when I knew for sure that if he did fuck me the way I wanted, it wouldn’t only be just for me. It was something he desired, too. “I’m pretty big, you know,” he cautioned, his face still serious despite his lust. I laughed. “Yeah, Dad, I know.” Dad laughed back, breaking the tension and realizing the odd situation. The humor seemed to relax the air around us, some, though the sexual tension was still heavy between us. With a lustful look, Dad kept his eyes on me as he began to remove his Navy fleece. I’d never get sick of seeing my father undress. I watched him pull the thick fabric off his mounded shoulders and then peel it down his muscled arms. As he tossed the fleece aside, his thick pecs flexed and stretched his polo. He was such a hunk, and I shuddered as I realized I was about to sleep with him again. Now he was the one establishing a confident posture. It was just inspiring to me how easily his commanding, Navy officer presence filled the room. “You’ll tell me when I go too hard, right, Slugger?” he asked, a sudden shift in his voice, face and demeanor. There was a parental concern in his voice and in the context of what we were talking about that turned me on like crazy. This was a warning, but it also meant I was going to get what I’d asked for. I nodded, feeling my body shiver as I realized he said “when” and not “if.” “Yeah, Dad, of course,” I said, looking straight into his granite gray eyes and feeding off his stoic masculine energy. He seemed to let that sink in. Then his face got a certain stony expression. If I hadn’t had sex with Dad before, I would have mistaken it for anger or him being upset with me. Instead, I knew it was him getting turned on. Incredibly turned on. With one simple motion, he gripped the hem of his polo, raised his arms and pulled off his shirt in one easy motion. He tossed it aside and fixed his messed hair with one clean brush of his fingers. He looked at me with a certain directness from his now piercing gray eyes. For a second, he stood there, allowing me to let my eyes look down his upper body. I realized it was the mirror image of my own earlier excitement in my desirability, and I made a quick mental note to indulge that feeling more. For now, my attention was on Dad. His wide round shoulders, his huge bulging biceps, his bare, furry chest, capped by two rounded pecs that seemed bigger in proportion to the rest of his muscle even as they jutted out over his torso. All of it covered in a swirling down of dark and gray-streaked body hair. And below that, a massive bulge tented the crotch of his jeans. “Strip and get on the bed, Jim,” he said, almost calmly but as a command, like a captain ordering his junior grade lieutenant. “Face down.” I nodded, taking off my cap before I started pulling off my sweatshirt and getting out of the rest of my clothes – wiggling out of my T-shirt, tugging down my jeans, and pulling off my briefs – my cock rock hard. I watched Dad unzip his pants, thumbs hooked in the waistband as he pushed his jeans and underwear down and off his big hairy quads. Dad’s long thick cock was already over half-way hard as it swung free from a thick forest of dark pubes. The shiny head peered out from behind a taut, retracting hood. From between my ass cheeks, I felt my tight jock hole twitch in baited anticipation. All of a sudden remembering what it was like to take him. I didn’t know exactly how this was going to play out. It wouldn’t be Henson Part Two, I knew that for sure. And the fact that I didn’t know what to expect excited me even more. Dad finished getting undressed first and stepped into the bathroom to fetch his toiletries bag, his cock bobbing heavy and dense in front of him as he walked out of view. Now fully naked as well, I peeled the bedding down on one of the two double beds. I crawled up onto the mattress, laying down on my stomach as I clutched one of the pillows and cradled my head. The sheets felt cool against my skin and soft against my hard cock, which found a groove in the mattress. I listened to Dad in the bathroom and felt my flushed skin slide across the crisp cotton as I bent my knees and gently spread my legs. Both my cock and hole were pulsing with heat. Fuck, I was so keyed up. The want I felt for this – Dad fucking me the way I’d asked… this need. I flexed my hips, grinding my dick into the mattress only to then push my ass up, spreading my cheeks to feel my hole pucker against the fresh air. I wanted this… bad. I heard bare feet walk back into the room. I raised my head and looked back in time to see Dad standing naked at the foot of the bed, looking down at me as he obscenely fisted his 10-inch cock, which now stood in full erection. I loved watching the way he handled his own girth and length. The way his thick knuckles wrapped around beylikdüzü travesti his wide shaft. The way his wrist moved with each twisting stroke. How the corded muscles in his hairy thick forearm flexed and bulged. The way his fingers let his hood roll back and forth, covering and revealing the glossy purple-pink cock head, collecting his flowing sap in the folds of his rolling skin before letting it drip off the tip in long clear strands. I must be crazy to submit to a dick that big, but it was Dad’s dick, the encapsulation of everything he represented to me, every way he turned me on. I wanted this, even more than I’d dared admit since Mexico. Dad didn’t rush into it, but instead knelt up on the bed behind me between my legs. I spread them wider for him as he knelt up closer. He let go of his cock and ran his big hands up and down my taut hamstrings, then over the curve of my ass. He silently admired the mostly smooth and round fullness and muscle, gently kneading and massaging my buns, his thumbs playfully entering deeper into my cleft to pry everything open and root around for my heated pucker. I gasped as he found it. “Your body gets more amazing each time, Jim,” Dad’s deep voice grunted as the pad of his hard thumb nudged against my hot smooth ring. That feeling returned. Pride that I had a strong, masculine body. That I turned Dad on. My back muscles flexed involuntarily and I raised my upper body up a little for his gaze. I realized this was the first time we’d been fully naked with each other since Mexico. “Yours, too, Dad,” I said. I wasn’t sure I should speak in response, but I was so horny at that moment. I gently pressed my ass up to meet his hand, spreading my ass for him a bit more in the process. He squeezed one of my ass cheeks again. “That’s just in your head, Slugger, because you’re sexually attracted to me,” Dad replied with surprising candor. It was something only Dad would say. Or maybe Dad was the only one who could turn me on to the core with such direct honesty. But just as he said it, he began rubbing my puckered entrance in small tight circles, alternating thumbs as he began pulling at the lips of my hole. Not breaching it, but letting me know what was coming up as he tested my tightness. I raised my head and started to look back once more, but I heard Dad’s surprisingly sharp rebuke. “Head forward, Slugger,” he said gruffly. “I want you to feel this fuck. Focus on what your body’s feeling. Got it?” “Yessir,” I mumbled, responding to his curtly commanding tone. I lay my face back into the pillow and wrapped my arms around it. I did as Dad said and focused on my body’s sensations. The warmth of his thighs against the insides of my knees. The warm fingers massaging my crack. My prick throbbed against the bed as Dad’s digits continued to prod and play with my winking hole. I had to stop myself from humping the mattress, I was so excited. Suddenly, Dad stopped, his hands still right before he pressed the tip of his curling thumb against my pulsing hole. He added a bit of pressure, and I felt his thick digit slowly open me with a dry roughness. I winced and shut my eyes for a second. It stung a little. But almost as quickly as the discomfort came, I felt the soft flutter of Dad’s hot breath against my right ass cheek. The mattress shifted beneath me and I soon felt Dad’s furry chest press down against my hamstrings, his breath rolling down my crack as his other hand pried my buns open for inspection. “You still got a beautiful fuckin’ hole, Jim,” Dad grunted right before he pulled his thumb back, only to replace it with his tongue. Memory is one thing, but experiencing Dad’s rim job again was another. My sexual heat amped up when I felt his expert tongue lap and lave at my entrance. Dad pulled back a hair, his breath blowing across my now wet hole. His strong hands gripped my cheeks and pulled them wide apart right before his lightly stubbled cheeks and chin rasped against the sensitive skin of my inner cleft. Dad wedged his square jaw between my buns, and I spread my thighs even wider for him. His smooth lips and wet tongue kissed my hole once more. I let out a cry and a curse word or two. But I tried to take Dad’s order to heart. I focused on my body, on the physical sensations. Not only Dad’s lapping tongue, but the feeling of the warm, heated hotel air on my bare back, and the smell of the pillow against my cheek. I could feel every pulse of my cock as it responded to Dad’s asseating. He licked around my hole and up my cleft, broadly running his tongue back and forth, then he really started eating me out. Every soft blond hair in my crack stood on end as Dad’s lips kissed the puckered ring of my hole, his tongue firmly pressing in as I felt my sealed entrance give way. His strong fingers dug into the soft, muscled flesh of my cheeks, keeping me spread. I cried out in half-muffled pleasure as I rocked my face in my pillow, letting my lower back instinctively arch, pressing my ass and hole back against his munching face. Dad grunted and growled in approval against my hole, the sound muffled as he plunged his thick tongue deeper, fucking me with his hard oral muscle. I was leaking like a faucet onto the sheets beneath us. Fuck, it was so good. Part of me wondered if this was going to be a regular fuck. Gentle, loving. I would have been OK with that. Everything Dad was doing to me felt incredible. Dad pulled back, grunting with a deep breath as his tongue slid out of my hole, only to then feel his thumb take its place, rubbing his saliva into the crinkled folds of my pucker. I felt the tip enter me, over and over until I realized Dad was pushing his saliva back in. And once again, he pulled his thumb back right before he dove back in, his stubbled face and talented mouth, licking, probing and gnawing at my smooth jock hole. He took his time, but didn’t prolong his rimjob. Still holding my cheeks open, he finally released his lips, licking at my twitching entrance a few more times before he pulled away. My hole still buzzed with pleasure and felt wet-cool with spit. I could sense him sit back on his knees behind me and scoot back a bit, but I resolved not to look. Even without seeing, I could tell Dad was looking at me, making sure I didn’t turn around. I heard a clear plastic snap. I felt Dad’s hand on my ass cheek once more, pulling me open. Then I felt the cool drizzle of lube on my crack, almost instantly met by two of Dad’s fingers that began applying it to my sphincter. Nudging the liquid inside me at first, then pushing right in. “Oh,” I hissed. Dad had been right. Not looking at him as he prepped me made every nerve of my body feel alive. It felt good having Dad’s thick fingers back inside me, one and then the other, and soon both. The sheer thickness of his digits stretched my ring open with surprising ease. With any other man, I’d probably need the foreplay to go slower but everything he did, every bit of his touch, had me worked up quickly. Now three fingers sank inside me, stretching my ring with a dull sting, pausing a second before beginning a regular in-and-out sawing motion. They didn’t extend as far as my prostate, but instead almost teased me in the expectation that they’d touch the pleasure buttons just out of his reach. I shifted my shoulders a little bit, placing my hands next to them, my back muscles rippling as I hiked my ass back a little bit and rode the prodding fingers. “That’s it,” Dad grunted as I felt his fingers dig in and then smoothly slip out of my hole, the wet and relaxed ring closing back up around his fingertips. It was that quiet, deep voice of Dad-in-rut. My father as a sexual animal. And just like that, I felt his prick at my entrance. His flesh was hot and coated in slick as he rubbed the tip up and down my cleft, zeroing in on my crinkled pucker. I wanted this so bad now, and I felt my ass arch towards his rod. The hooded head was probably mostly revealed now, since Dad’s dick was rock hard. I felt one hand grip my cheek, the other probably holding his shaft as the dripping tip pressed into my hole. My pucker flexed in response and began to open as my anal muscles pushed out a bit, just like he’d instructed the very first time he entered me. Dad steadily applied pressure with his powerful hips. I was divided between feeling completely in tune with my body and its sensations and almost experiencing the entry as if I were out of my own body, looking on. I felt my ring begin to dilate open, taking in the wide head as I reveled in the warm sting and glowing pleasure of my hole stretching to swallow his girth. There was that initial sensation of entry, a slight jab when I worried how my body was going to accept him. He was by far the biggest man to tap my ass. But it was just a temporary bump in the breaching of my hole. I reminded myself that I’d taken him before. And although Dad was hung like a mule, that monstrous cock had given me pleasure before and would now again. Pretty quickly, I opened up for Dad. Particularly when I realized he was going to enter me slowly as my body let him in. “Yesss… That’s it, Slugger. Let me in.” Dad pushed in further as I felt the lips of my ass widen to take the flared head. I felt that familiar burning pleasure. Then more. Unlike the Admiral, Dad’s girth only pushed the boundary of what my ass could handle, the pain so insignificant compared to the pleasure. But what Dad really had was length. He grunted with lust above me as I sighed into my pillow. I wanted this so bad. The slowness itself was excruciating in the best way. I focused my eyes ahead, palms on the sheets as I let my body feel every part of his penetration. Dad fucking me for the first time in a year. That paternal phallus glided steadily, slowly over each ridge of my guts. “Oh fuck!” I cried when I felt the fat dick head nudge against my buttnut then push onward over it. I clenched my jaw and arched my back. Dad let out a grunted chuckle, fully aware of that special spot. I know I had well over half of him inside me now. Dad’s hands reached forward to run along my muscled lats, then retreated to caress the small of my back, right where my muscular buns rose up from the natural curve. “Push back on me, Jim,” he instructed. I planted the side of my face back into the pillow and did as commanded, kind of wriggling my round ass backward, and instantly felt more of that oversized dick slide up into me. I hissed as I felt my walls expand to take istanbul travesti more, his cock now sliding into deeper territory. I could hear the lust and approval in Dad’s deep voice. “That’s it, son… fuck yourself on your dad’s dick… fuck… just like that….” “God!” I grunted, feeling the combination of that intense physical sensation and Dad’s nasty words as I impaled myself deeper with his giant cock. “You like that cock, Slugger?” Dad asked in a tease. This was a playful side to him in sex that I’m not sure I even experienced in Mexico. “Oh god, yes, Dad,” I hissed. So far the penetration was surprisingly easy, but as I worked my hips back, I felt that tightness deeper up inside my bowels, the edge of that second ring, where Dad’s dong was now pressing. “Fuck… Your cock’s incredible.” “So’s your ass, Jim,” Dad hissed as he possessively gripped my cheeks once more. This wasn’t like that domination in Mexico. We were more verbal now, but I loved this no less. “My own son,” Dad groaned. That was the signal for me to speak more openly. It was like the floodgates were open in our incestuous coupling. “God… It’s so hot getting fucked by my father.” That elicited a growl from Dad and he started thrusting his hips. Not hard, but now that cock was pumping regularly into me now, and nudging against my inner, deeper tightness with each thrust. Dad’s cock was now opening up my second ring. I bit my lip remembering the pleasure of Dad fucking that deep. I willed my body to let him in. “Y…Yes,” I urged. I knew Dad was going to fuck open my resistance any second now. I was on the verge of begging. My father’s thrusts grew harder. And within about twenty seconds, it all happened. Dad’s prick barreled in, all the way in, as my ass just flowered open for him. It was intense, but in a good way, feeling that complete possession of my insides. I let out a moan as my deep insides clenched at the head of his invading cock. “Oh fuck!” Dad cried, hungrily collapsing onto my back, his thick and hairy pecs pressing into my lats as he ground his dense pubes into my ass. He planted his hands next to mine on either side of my shoulders. He didn’t stop his thrusting, though. He just fucked into me faster. I don’t know if he was feeding off the excitement of fucking me again or just trying to maximize the pleasure on his cock. Either way, I had ten solid inches of manhood pounding in and out with loud wet slaps against my round ass. I felt it all. The crazy numbing hum of pleasure in my ass as his cock stimulated my deepest spots, the damp warmness of Dad’s sweaty chest pressed against my bare back, and the soft flutter of his hot and heavy breath against my neck and the side of my cheek as his breathing grew faster with the increased pace. I tried not to be fully passive, and I undulated my hips subtly to encourage his thrust, but there was no doubt that I was being full and well fucked, completely possessed by my father. For all I was focusing on my ass, my body, and the physical sensations, I almost didn’t register the words Dad spoke to me. “I’m not fucking you hard yet,” he grunted between breaths. His thrusts slowed down just a little but he continued to pump in and out of me while he pushed his upper body up off my back. “Oh,” I said in a half-moan. It was insane to admit, but yeah, I knew what he meant. His dick was huge and it was a feat in itself that I could take him and still feel pleasure out of it. I realized he was giving me an out if I wanted it. I almost took it, even. But I knew I wanted this, even more than I wanted to try it with Henson. I wanted to feel rougher sex with my father, to see what that would be like. “Ah… Ugnh… You can go hard, Dad,” I said, anticipating his next inward stroke. “Really.” He paused, letting me catch my breath and leaned down to softly kiss my shoulder before leaning back up. “You had any experience with this?” he asked as began to slowly saw his cock in and out of my hole. The baritone calmness of his voice was like a truth serum, and my reply spilled out. “Yes.” I wasn’t going to tell him about Henson or any details, but I wanted him to know I could handle this. “I liked it.” “Christ,” I heard Dad swear but his dick got even harder inside my ass, if possible. Then he added, “If it gets too hard, just say no. A loud and clear no, got it? And I’ll stop.” “Yeah,” I breathed, so turned on this was gonna happen. And as soon as I said that, I felt Dad’s thrusts stop. I wondered what was going on, then all of a sudden that hard cock shoved into me, hard. My tightness was battered away by the sheer force of Dad’s muscles. “Motherfuck!” I gasped, surprised and overwhelmed. I wouldn’t even say it hurt, since I didn’t have the time or ability to register how it felt. I worried for a second my outburst would stop Dad, but then again, I hadn’t said no, and Dad wasn’t going to stop until I did. The next thrust was harder. I let out another loud cry and my body flexed defensively in response. But he didn’t stop, the thrusts kept coming. Dad gripped my waist, holding my ass in place as he pushed back in like a ballistic missile. It took me till about the fourth rough stroke to realize Dad was using the leverage from the slight bounce in the bed to time for the hardest entry. The slaps of his groin on my ass got louder, wetter. Dad’s pistoning cock made the lube ooze out my stretched hole and roll down perineum and onto my sac. Dad growled with each thrust, echoing my dominated moans. It was short circuiting my brain. I almost said no, but I couldn’t parse out the sharp pain from the pleasure that was there, too, from my prostate and from my cock rubbing against the sheets. Before I could process it all, Dad’s hands grabbed my wrists and pinned them down as he bent over me and went even faster with the hard, deep thrusts. This wasn’t Henson Part Two, it was Henson Times Two. Or times ten. The fact that it was Dad doing it made every bit of our fuck come alive. It’s what made it pleasurable for me, ultimately. I tried to tell Dad I was enjoying this. Loving it, even. But I couldn’t form words beyond the loud moans timed with each powerful jab of Dad bottoming out in my hole. Thankfully it didn’t last long, maybe two minutes, but in my mind, at that moment, it felt like Dad fucked me for a good fifteen minutes. A deep, rough, manhandling kind of fuck. His vice-like hands gripped my wrists even tighter, and that’s what did it. “DAD!” I cried as I felt my hole clench at all of Dad’s 10 inches. My eyes rolled back in my head and I felt the hot sting of my cum fire through my pisstube and against the sheets. I even blacked out a little as I came. I came to just as I felt Dad’s final rough shoves into me as he unloaded deep inside my guts. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he grunted as his body went rigid, his dick swelling, stretching my walls even more as he pumped me full of his heavy load. Within a second of discharging inside me, his grip on my wrists softened and his body relaxed, almost slumping on me. His hairy skin slicked with sweat as he took long drags of air above me. I could feel his cock still pulsing, giving me those final drops. “God,” he hissed, right before he got his energy back. Dad pushed up off my back, and his cock began to slide out of my battered chute. God, it was still so big. I felt the head begin to slide out from my stretched entrance, now acutely aware of how thick Dad was as I felt the stretch and sting of the head slipping out of my hole with a wet kiss. We both groaned at the sensation. A drop of Dad’s cum rolled down my crack while my hole tried to close back up, already missing my Dad’s paternal cock. Dad sighed and rolled off me and onto his back. The spell of the sex act finally broken, I rolled onto my back as well and finally looked at Dad for the first time since our fuck began. Both of us were still breathing heavily, and my father looked at me with a wild intensity. Still a lingering lust, and a lot of complicity in the forbidden nature of what just happened. “I don’t know who you’ve been hooking up with, Slugger,” Dad said softly. “But promise me you’re being careful.” Those words caught me off guard, almost as rough a punch as the dick thrusts he’d just given me. “Yeah, Dad, I am. Promise,” I replied with automatic deference to his concern. But now I wondered if I was careful enough. I mean, I felt I could hold my own with a man like Henson, you never know. And maybe sex with strangers I’d met online wasn’t the smartest thing. Dad had me doubting myself. He gave me a wry smile and a gently fatherly punch to my bare shoulder. “I’m gonna rinse off,” he announced. I nodded. I regained my energy and took a shower after him. When I got out Dad was dressed again and lying back in the other double bed. He’d turned the TV on to another baseball game, a West Coast game, it must have been. I slipped on a clean pair of boxer briefs and lay down in the bed where Dad and I had just fucked, trying to avoid the wet spot where I’d shot. We watched silently for a little while, then Dad pressed the mute button. “I was an asshole earlier,” he said. “The way you gave yourself to me just now… that was a gift, Slugger. I should have said that after we were done.” I basked in his apology. It’s what I needed to hear. “It’s OK Dad. I enjoyed it. A lot.” Mentally, emotionally, I was still processing how hot the sex had been and how much it fulfilled some deep craving I had. Dad nodded. “Well thank you…” He turned back to the TV and I thought he was going to turn the volume back on. But instead he continued. “I… I don’t know how you knew.” “Knew what?” I responded, sitting up more in the bed. Dad turned back to me. “I love sex like that Jim. When I get a chance, at least. Drives me wild.” I tried to take in that knowledge. “Didn’t really know. Though in Mexico, you had a certain intensity. I kept thinking about it. I don’t know… I guess it’s made me realize I enjoy a dominant man,” I blushed as I admitted this. Dad took in a deep breath. “Jesus, Jim, if any man ever hurts you…” He didn’t complete his thought, but I knew what it would be. “You ever hurt anyone?” I shot back. He got my point. “No. Not like that.” He added, “I guess I should trust your judgment more.” “Don’t worry, Dad,” I said, enjoying the honesty of our conversation, as difficult as it was. “I’m still figuring out what I want in a man.” I could read it on Dad’s face. He was about to give me a lecture, only he stopped himself. “Well, thank you, son.” I nodded, accepting his words. I glanced over at the TV screen and back at Dad. It was still early in the evening. “What do you say about going out for that beer after all?” I asked. Dad smiled. “You bet, Jimbo.”

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