When I returned to the kitchen, Henry was still bent over, his muscular back rippling with each wipe of the kitchen paper. The floor was a mess of oil and water, and it was clear he was struggling to get it all up. "Let me guess," I said, leaning against the counter, watching him. "You've never had to clean up after a little kitchen romp before?"
He glared at me over his shoulder, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. "I never had one before, so no, I wouldn't know." he grumbled, his biceps flexing as he tried to scrub away the stain. "It's not like I ever really had to help around the house. You do everything for us. It's basically your fault." he said, throwing me a teasing smile.
I rolled my eyes, unable to help the smirk that played on my lips. "Oh, so now it's my fault you're a messy lover?" I grabbed a towel, stepping closer to help him. "You're the one who decided to use me as a dish rag."
"Well... I have my moments," Henry said, flashing a charming grin as he took the towel from me, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The kitchen was indeed a mess, but the sight of him, half-dressed and scrubbing away at the floor, was oddly endearing. It was a stark contrast to the dominant figure he'd been just moments ago, his cock buried deep inside me.
We worked together in a surprisingly companionable silence, wiping down the floor and mopping up the stray droplets of water and oil. The moment was oddly relaxing, and when we were done with mopping, we stood shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen doorframe, looking over the clean space.
I couldn't help but look up at Henry, his chiseled jaw and intense eyes that seemed to pierce through me. His muscles flexed as he squeezed the last of the water out of the towel, and I felt a strange mix of admiration and desire for him. He had always been this big, powerful presence in my life, and the fact that he now also saw me as a partner in this carnally intense way was still a bit surreal.
"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "you're pretty good at this whole... brotherly love thing."
"Well, I've had a lot of practice," Henry replied, his grin growing wider. "And I've got the best brother to practice with." He ruffled my hair playfully, and I couldn't help but laugh, swatting his hand away.
The atmosphere between us had shifted again, the intensity of our encounter replaced by the familiar comfort of our easy banter. But while we waited for the last bit of wetness to dry off the kitchen floor, my thoughts were floating around and even though I knew I shouldn't wonder why he enjoyed fucking me so much, the question burned in the back of my mind. Did Henry really find me attractive? Or was it just the convenience of a readily available hole to fill?
"Why do you like fucking me?" I asked, my voice a soft murmur in the quiet kitchen.
Henry looked down at me, his eyes searching. "What do you mean?"
"I just... I know we're close, but why me?" I asked, the question echoing in the quiet kitchen. "I mean, you could have anyone, and I can't imagine you haven't had plenty of chances with girls. Why bother with your little brother?"
Henry paused, the towel in his hand hovering over the floor for a moment as he considered my question. "It's not just about the convenience," he said finally, his voice gruff. "I mean, yeah, you're here, and that makes it easier. But I actually find you hot, you know?"
I blinked, surprised by his honesty. "But why?" I pressed, my heart racing. "I'm not exactly the type you usually go for... I mean, I'm not even a girl."
He sighed, tossing the towel into the sink. "Look, I'm not saying I don't like girls," he said, his strangely serious. "But there's something... different about this." He turned himself towards me, his warmth enveloping me like a blanket."
"You are my brother, and I trust you, Little Bro," Henry said, his voice filled with a tenderness that I had rarely heard from him before. "I know I'm a big guy," he continued, flexing his bicep playfully. "And I don't want to hurt anyone when I'm... you know, going at it... And with you," he started, holding back a chuckle, "I know I couldn't, because, even tho you act all sweet and innocent, you're the one who's been bossing me around since we were kids."
"All of us know you're in charge here," he continued, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "And thats why I can let go with you... and really enjoy the fucking."
I looked up at him, my cheeks flushing with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment at his words. It was true, I had always been the one to take charge, even among these towering men in our house. "I guess you're right," I murmured, feeling a strange sense of power at his admission.
I could feel my chest swell with pride at his words. I needed to hear that I meant more to him than just a convenient place to relieve his pent-up desires. That he enjoyed our encounters as much as I did made the whole situation feel less... like many one night stands in a row and more like something I could rely on. "Thanks, Henry," I said, my voice not hiding how happy he made me feel.
"You're welcome, Little Bro," he said, ruffling my hair again.
Just as I was about to reply again, I heard the jingle of keys in the front door lock. We both turned to look as the door swung open, revealing our father, who looke dup from the lock with a surprised expression. The sight of us both in the kitchen doorway, had clearly caught him off-guard.
"Whoa boys, didn't expect the welcome committee," Hugo said with a chuckle, holding up his gym bag. His eyes darted between us, noticing the slightly rumpled state of our clothes. He stepped inside, closing the door with a gentle thud that echoed through the hallway.
"Yeah, we just finished up with the floor," I said nonchalantly, gesturing to the now dry kitchen floor.
"I made a little mess, helping Dylan with dinner prep," Henry said with a casual shrug, his muscles flexing slightly.
Hugo raised an eyebrow, "Wouldn't expect Dylan to let anyone help him in the kitchen," he said with a smile, "especially not you, Henry."
"Hey, I've got skills," Henry protested, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The kitchen was indeed spotless, but the scent of olive oil still lingered faintly in the air.
"Apparently not enough to not make a mess," Hugo teased, his eyes sweeping over the kitchen with an amused expression. "But that's why you have your little brother here, right?" He looked at me, his eyes twinkling with affection. "He's always had a knack for keeping us in line."
"Yeah, I guess I've got my hands full with you three," I said with a laugh, trying to keep my voice steady despite the lingering arousal that thrummed through my body. I knew Hugo had no idea about the kind of mess we'd made together, but the way he talked about me keeping everyone in check sent a jolt of excitement straight to my cock.
"Alright, enough stalling," I said, turning back to the kitchen. "I've got the steaks done in a few minutes. Why don't you go grab a quick shower, Dad?" I suggested, even tho I might have liked the musky scent of his gym sweat.
"Good idea," Hugo said, tossing his gym bag on the floor. "They're going to be perfect, aren't they?"
"You know I never disappoint," I replied to him with a wink.
As Hugo disappeared upstairs to freshen up, Henry kept me company from out of the corner of my eye as I focused on the steaks sizzling in the pan. Despite the earlier exertion, my body felt alive, humming with a newfound energy. The sound of his footstepsin the livingroom was comforting, reminding me of the weight of his body against mine, the feel of his cock sliding in and out. It was strange, how quickly this had become a new normal for us.
"So, what about Zac?" Henry asked, breaking the silence as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
I flipped the steaks over, the sizzling sound a stark contrast to the quietness of our conversation. "What about him?" I replied, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.
"Well, you know how he is," Henry said, his voice low. "He might be hungry too."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "A cold steak won't be very filling, will it?"
"You're right," He said, nodding in agreement.
"Let's get these steaks on the plates before they get cold." I slid the steaks onto the plates, the juices running onto the bed of vegetables I'd prepared earlier. The kitchen was now filled with the mouthwatering scent of dinner, and my stomach growled in anticipation.
"Allright," Henry said, his eyes on the food. "I'm starving."
He grabbed the plates from the counter, and as I reached for the cutlery drawer, I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles bulged with the simple movement. It was easy to get lost in the memory of his strength holding me up as he fucked me, and the way he'd looked at me in the mirror, so hungry for more.
Quickly snapping out of my trance, I set the table with the same care I always did, placing the glasses just so and making sure each piece of silverware was perfectly aligned. The simple task was a welcome distraction from the complex tapestry of emotions weaving through me. Henry, meanwhile, was busy plating the steaks, his own movements a study in concentration and efficiency.
When Hugo came back downstairs, the aroma of dinner filled the air, a tantalizing blend of sizzling meat and freshly steamed veggies. He stepped outside, his eyes scanning the backyard that had become our makeshift dining room for the evening.
"Looks great, boys," He said, his eyes shining with pride as he took in the set table and the plates of steaming food. He pulled out a chair, and the sound of it scraping against the patio tiles was the only sound in the otherwise quiet evening.
"Thanks, Dad," I said, taking my place opposite him. Henry sat next to me, his leg pressing against mine. I laid one hand on his massive thigh, sliding his basketball shorts up slightly to feel the warm, firm muscles under my touch. He shot me a knowing smirk, and I felt my face flush as I realized what I'd done. But instead of moving away, I left my hand there, my cock already stirring back to life.
We began to eat, the sound of our forks scraping against the plates the only sound in the quiet evening. The steaks were tender and perfectly seasoned, the vegetables a crunchy contrast to the rich meat. Despite the delicious food in front of me, I couldn't help but steal glances at Henry's plate, watching the way his muscles flexed as he brought each bite to his mouth.
My hand remained on his thigh, my fingertips tracing lazy circles on his bare skin. His muscles twitched slightly at my touch. I loved the feeling of his skin under my touch, it was like I owned him, and the knowledge made me feel great.
We sat there, eating in silence, the occasional grunt of approval from Henry the only noise other than our chewing and the distant sounds of the neighborhood. The evening air was cool and crisp, a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves of the trees that lined the fence. As I took a bite of my steak, the juices exploding in my mouth, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The meal was perfect, and the company was even better.
As the last piece of steak disappeared from my plate, I watched with a twinkle in my eye as Henry and Hugo both reached for seconds. They were like two hungry bears at a picnic, each bite they took only seemed to fuel their appetite more. I took a moment to appreciate their beefy bodies, their muscles bulging as they cut into the steaks, the way their strong jaws worked as they chewed. There was something incredibly erotic about watching these men, who just happened to be my family, indulging in the simple pleasure of a good meal.
Their movements were so masculine, so powerful, it was easy to see why they drew the eyes of everyone in the room. Hugo's broad chest stretched his shirt with each breath, the fabric threatening to rip apart and reveal the chiseled abs beneath. Henry's biceps flexed as he brought the fork to his mouth, a hint of his earlier exertion still visible with a look that made me want to feel his strength again. As they both finished their second helping, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. I had made this food for them and had watched them enjoy it.
I took a moment to breathe in the warmth of the evening and the comfort of their company before standing up and collecting their plates. "Why don't you two go grab a drink," I suggested, "I've got this."
They both grunted in agreement, their eyes never leaving their plates as they took their last bites. Hugo gave me a grateful look that said more than words could, and Henry just winked, his plate already clean.
As I cleared the table, Henry and Hugo lumbered into the kitchen, their heavy footsteps echoing through the house. They were both so used to me doing the dishes that it was almost comical watching them attempt to work together. Henry's massive hands fumbled with the delicate plates, almost dropping one, and Hugo's deep chuckles filled the room as he corrected him.
They were like two overgrown pups, bumbling and playfully bumping into each other, as they tried to navigate the space. I couldn't help but smile as I sat down on the couch, my legs curled up underneath me, watching them through the open kitchen doorway. They were so focused on their task that they didn't even notice me sneak in a little rest. The kitchen was a mess of dirty dishes and pots, but it was a small price to pay for the sight of them getting along so well.
Hugo moved with an authoritative grace, guiding Henry through the process of washing and drying. Henry, for his part, took it all in stride, his grin never faltering as he listened to our father's instructions. I on th eother hand, reached out for the remote, flipping through the channels to find something to watch.
As the dishes clinked and the water ran, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. My brothers and I had always had a complicated relationship, but moments like these, where we all just coexisted peacefully, were rare and precious. I found myself smiling as they talked over each other, their voices a comforting background to the evening's quietude.
But the serenity didn't last long. As I was getting lost in the TV show, I felt the couch dip as Henry and Hugo made their way over. Before I knew it, they were sitting down on either side of me, their heavy bodies enveloping me in a warm sandwich of muscle. I glanced at them, relaxing into the feeling of being surrounded by their familiar, comforting presence.
The evening stretched on, the TV casting a flickering glow over the three of us as we lounged on the couch. The occasional laughter from the show filled the room, a stark contrast to the sudden tension that arose when the front door slammed shut. Zac's footsteps echoed through the hallway, his "Hi" barely audible as he stomped up the stairs to his room.
I exchanged a look with Hugo, who shrugged, his expression unconcerned. But Henry's eyes narrowed, a furrow appearing in his brow. He was to kind hearted to ignore the obvious tension in Zac's voice. "Something's up with him," Henry murmured, setting down his drink on the coffee table with a clunk.
Without another word, Henry stood up, his massive frame looming over me for a brief moment before he lumbered towards the stairs. "I'll go check on him," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination that was unlike his usual playfulness.
Hugo nodded, obviously not worried about Zac's mood, his gaze never leaving the TV.
Henry disappeared upstairs, which left Hugo and I on the couch, the TV show playing on without both of us watching the trashy reality show that I had picked out earlyer.
Hugo took the opportunity to lean back into the couch cushions, his massive arms stretching along the back of the sofa. "So, Dylan," he began, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity. "What's it that you find so interesting about these reality shows?"
I couldn't help but chuckle, feeling the heat of his body next to mine. "It's just mindless entertainment, you know?" I replied, keeping my eyes glued to the screen.
"Mindless, huh?" Hugo chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through me. "Well, I guess everyone needs a guilty pleasure."
I leaned back against the couch, letting my head rest on his broad shoulder. "You've got your basketball games, I've got reality TV," I said with a shrug.
Hugo chuckled, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through me. "I guess everyone needs their own way to unwind," he said, his arm sliding around my shoulder, pulling me closer.
The mood in the living room was still light, but it had shifted, grown a little more intimate. With Henry upstairs, the dynamic between Hugo and me was different. I felt the heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles, and couldn't help but fantasize about how they'd felt against my own.
"What's with all the nudity?" Hugo asked, his eyes on the reality show playing out on the TV.
"It's just how it is these days," I replied, trying to keep the blush from my cheeks. "People rather watch shows with more... skin."
"Well, when I was young," Hugo began, his arm tightening slightly around me, "we had to use our imagination more."
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled by his shoulder. "You mean you didn't have reality TV?"
"No, I mean really," Hugo pressed, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Do people actually watch that stuff for... you know, to get off?"
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy. "Some people do, I guess," I said, feeling his body tense slightly underneath me. "But it's not like it's full-on porn or anything. It's purpose isn't to turn people on, it's just...for entertaining."
Hugo hummed in understanding, his arm still wrapped securely around me. We watched for a few more minutes, the show's dramatic antics playing out on the screen, before Hugo spoke up again. "Watching all those half naked people flirting and playing games... It makes me think about companionship, you know?"
I looked up at him, surprised by his sudden introspection. "What do you mean?"
Hugo took another sip of his beer, his eyes not leaving the TV, which was now showing a group of scantily clad people playing a ridiculous game on the beach. "Well, it's been a while since I've had anyone to share my life with," he said, his voice gruff. "It's just me and you boys here, and while I love you both, it's not the same as having someone to... you know."
I decided to play along, poking fun at Hugo's lonely bachelor life. "Oh, come on, Dad," I teased, nudging him playfully. "You can't tell me you've been living like a monk since Mom left."
Hugo's eyes flicked to me, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. "What makes you say that?" he asked, his tone playful.
"Come on, Dad," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're not exactly hard on the eyes. I'm sure the ladies at the gym are throwing themselves at you."
Hugo chuckled, his deep laugh reverberating through his chest. "Maybe a few, but it's not the same," he said, his gaze still fixed on the TV. "Besides, I've been busy with work for the past months."
"Ah, the classic workaholic dad," I said with a smirk, teasing him. "Too busy to have a love life."
Hugo shot me a look that was half-scolding, half-amused. "Very funny, Dylan," he said, his arm giving me a gentle squeeze. "But you're right, I haven't brought anyone home since... well, for a while now." His eyes drifted away from the TV, and for a moment, I could see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he reminisced.
"I've noticed," I said, keeping the teasing tone in my voice. "But you know, we're not kids anymore. We can handle a little... entertainment around here."
Hugo's gaze remained on the TV, but his expression grew contemplative. "Yeah, I know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "But it's different when it's your kids seeing it."
I turned my head to look at him, his strong jaw and the hint of stubble giving him a rugged appeal that was undeniable. "We're adults, Dad," I said gently. "We understand that people have needs, and it's not like we're going to start throwing a fit because you have a date."
Hugo's eyes slid to me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You're right," he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "But I don't even know if I remember how to flirt."
"You're not that old, Dad," I teased, my voice light and airy as I playfully slapped his chest. "I've seen you charm the cashiers at the grocery store."
Hugo chuckled, his hand coming to rest on my thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through my shorts. "Oh, you think so?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I've still got it, then."
The mood was still light, but there was an undeniable shift in the air. The banter between us had taken on a flirty edge, and I couldn't ignore the way his fingers were idly tracing circles on my skin. I didn't mean to, but I found myself leaning into his touch, enjoying the closeness of his muscled body against my own. We continued to watch the reality show, our laughter ringing out at the ridiculousness of the contestants' antics.
"You know, Dad," I said, turning slightly to face him, "as a gay guy, I can give you some pointers if you want."
Hugo raised an eyebrow, his gaze meeting mine. "Oh really?" he said, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I think I've got that covered, but I appreciate the offer."
I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy as it filled the space between us. "Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "But if you ever need any help, I'm here for you."
Hugo's hand stilled on my thigh, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before returning to the TV. "Thanks, Dylan," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "But I think I'll manage."
The laughter and teasing continued, the easy camaraderie between us reaching its peek. The night wore on, Hugo's laughter grew a little louder, his movements a touch more uncoordinated. The beer had clearly started to hit him, and as the bottles on the coffee table grew in number, I couldn't help but feel a sense of arousal. His hand remained on my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles that were driving me crazy. I didn't want to push it, but themy mind was racing with thoughts of what could happen if I did.
As the reality show on the TV reached its climax, the camera panned to a couple in a steamy embrace, the woman's head bobbing up and down between the man's legs. The image was blurred, but the sounds were clear enough. Hugo's hand stilled on my thigh, his breath hitching slightly as he watched. I swallowed hard, my cock pressing against the fabric of my shorts.
"Well, that's one way to win immunity," Hugo said, his voice a little too casual, his eyes not leaving the screen.
I couldn't help but snicker, my eyes wandering down to my dads crotch where the fabric of his shorts was stretched taut. It was clear that the scene had affected him as much as it had me.
"What?" Hugo said, catching my gaze, his usual confidence gone. His cheeks flushing a deep red. "It's just...it's hot, right?"
I nodded, unable to argue with him. The scene on the TV was indeed steamy, but the heat in the room was a different kind altogether. "Yeah," I said, my voice a little hoarse. "It's definitely...entertaining."
Hugo took another sip of his beer, his eyes still glued to the screen. "So...are you like those guys on TV?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of curiosity. "I mean, since you're... you know, gay."
I couldn't help but chuckle at his awkwardness. "What do you mean, Dad?" I asked, playing along.
Hugo cleared his throat, taking another sip of his beer before speaking. "Well, you know, the stereotype," he said, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. "Guys like you, in the city, you're supposed to be... you know." He trailed off, his gaze returning to the TV.
I leaned into him a little more, a smirk playing on my lips. "You mean, like those reality show contestants?" I asked, my tone teasing. "Doing it every night with anyone who'll have me?"
Hugo's eyes flicked to me, his own smile a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah," he said, his cheeks reddening further. "But I didn't mean to pry."
"It's okay, Dad," I said, my voice still playful. "You know I've had my fair share of fun. But I'm not out there breaking hearts every night."
Hugo's eyes remained on the TV, but I could feel his gaze on me. "You know, I'm just trying to understand," he said, his voice low. "I mean, you're my son, and you are so... different from your brothers." His hand squeezed my thigh gently, his thumb almost brushing against my growing hardness.
I took a deep breath, the air in the room feeling suddenly thicker. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice quiet.
Hugo took a moment, his eyes never leaving the TV. "Well, you're not like Henry and Zac," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're... smaller, more delicate." His hand on my thigh stopped, his thumb making a small circle.
I couldn't help but smile at his description. "You mean I don't look like I could bench press a car?" I quipped, my heart racing as the conversation grew more intimate.
"No, it's not that," Hugo said, his voice gruff, his eyes still on the TV. "It's just... when I look at your brothers, I see these big, strong men who would clearly enjoy being in the position of that guy on." He continued, gestureing vaguely at the screen. "But with you, Dylan, it's different."
Hugo's hand on my thigh grew completly still, his thumb stroking my skin in a way that sent shivers down my spine. "You're more... delicate," he said, the word almost a caress. "I can't imagine you being the one doing the... you know." He cleared his throat, but he didn't need to elaborate. The scene on the TV was still playing in the background, but it was our little exchange that had my full attention.
I took a deep breath, my heart racing. "Well, Dad," I said, my voice teasing, "I might not look like I could bench press you, but I've got my own ways of being in charge." I leaned into him, my hand brushing against his thick, muscled bicep.
Hugo's eyes snapped to me, a look of surprise and curiosity in his gaze. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice seemingly unsure. The mood in the room had shifted, the air now thick with a tension that was anything but familial.
"Mmhmm," I said, my voice a teasing purr. "You'd be surprised what this little body can handle." I winked at him, feeling bold. The beer had loosened my tongue, and the desire to explore this newfound closeness was too tempting to ignore.
Hugo chuckled, the sound low and warm. " I don't want to know that about my own son," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But if you say so."
I leaned into him more, my hand sliding up his arm, feeling the firmness of his bicep. "You might be surprised, Dad," I said, my voice a little breathier than I had intended.
Hugo took a deep breath, his chest expanding beneath my cheek. "I'm sure I would," he said, his voice gruff. He took another swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine. "But maybe we should talk about something else."
"But you seem to enjoy the attention," I said with a smirk, feeling Hugo's hand tense on my thigh as the TV couple's scene reappeared on the screen. The mood in the room had shifted, a palpable sexual energy dancing around us like a mischievous sprite.
Hugo took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his composure. "Dylan," he began, his voice a warning growl. "We should probably change the subject."
I couldn't help the smirk that played on my lips. "You are right, Dad," I said, my voice light and airy, though the tension in my body belied the casual tone. "I'm already pretty worked up."
Hugo's hand tightened on my thigh, and I could see his cock twitch in response to my words. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I've gotten a bit... excited." He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "We should probably just... go to bed."
But the mood had shifted, and the lightness in the room had grown a new dimension, one that was charged with a sexual tension that neither of us could ignore. "You know, Dad," I said, my voice still teasing, "The best part about being gay is that it's so easy to have fun without all the... complications."
Hugo raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to me, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Oh?" he said, his voice a low rumble. "What do you mean by that?"
I couldn't help but smirk, feeling bold and a little naughty. "You know," I said, my voice a playful purr, "When you're with someone you trust, it's so easy to just... go for it." I leaned into him, my hand sliding up his muscled arm. "No need for all the fuss with condoms, and oral is always on the menu."
Hugo's eyes widened, his grip on the beer bottle tightening. "Dylan," he said, his voice a warning growl, but the heat in his gaze told a different story. He was intrigued, the wheels in his head clearly turning. "You're my son," he said, his voice gruff. "And I'm your dad. We can't just...go there."
I nodded, playing the obedient child, my hand sliding away from his arm. "You're right, Dad," I said, my voice sweet and innocent. "It's your call. We should just go upstairs, alone, and ignore the fun part of beeing men."
Hugo looked at me, his gaze searching, as if trying to gauge my intentions. I knew what he was thinking. He was torn between his role as a father and his desires, a battle I could see playing out in the tightness of his jaw and the way his hand flexed on the beer bottle.
The room was silent except for the TV's muffled sounds of the reality show's aftermath. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, the anticipation of what might happen next making it difficult to breathe. "Dylan," Hugo began, his voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity. "I'm on a dry streak, you know? And those thoughts..." He trailed off, but before he could say another word, I took the plunge and kissed him.
My lips met his, and any remaining tension between us dissolved as we melted into each other. Hugo's beer-flavored breath washed over me, and I felt his hand move from the beer bottle to cradle the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. The kiss grew deeper, wetter, as he took charge, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth with a passion that was surprisingly tender. He was a great kisser, and his confidence came back with every passing second.
Hugo's other hand found its way to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. Our bodies were pressed together, the heat from his muscled chest seeping into my much smaller frame. I could feel the outline of his hard cock against my thigh, and the realization that my father was just as turned on as I was sent a jolt of excitement through my body.
I moaned into the kiss, my hands moving to explore the expanse of his broad chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt. Hugo's hand slipped down to my ass, giving it a firm squeeze that had me grinding against him unconsciously. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire, and whispered, "If we do this, we can't go back, Dylan. You understand?"
I nodded, my breath coming in short, eager gasps. "I know, Dad," I said, the formality of the word 'Dad' feeling strange and thrilling in this new context. "But I want to."
With that, Hugo's control snapped. He lifted me up effortlessly, the power in his arms making my stomach flutter as he settled me on top of him, my legs straddling his broad thighs. The cushion beneath us groaned under our combined weight, but it was the only sound in the room as he claimed my mouth in a kiss that was anything but fatherly. His tongue danced with mine, his teeth nipping at my lower lip, making me gasp.
I felt his massive chest beneath my hands, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. His muscles rippled and flexed with every movement, a testament to the hours he spent at the gym.
The softness of the couch cushions contrasted with the hardness of his body, and I couldn't help but to lift his shirt and run my palms over his abs, feeling the ridges and valleys of his defined muscles. Hugo's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed as my fingertips danced along his waistline. His kiss grew more urgent, his tongue delving deeper into my mouth as his hands roamed my back, tracing the curve of my spine before settling on my ass, squeezing and lifting me slightly so that I could feel the outline of his thick cock pressing against my lower stomach through his shorts.
The room spun as Hugo's fingers danced over my skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. I was acutely aware of every inch of him, from the roughness of his stubble against my cheek to the smell of his cologne mingling with the faint scent of something that could only be described as 'dad'. His massive biceps flexed as he held me close while his mouth was insistent, claiming mine with a passion that had been hidden behind his stoic exterior for so long. The stubble on his jaw scraped against my skin as he moved to kiss my neck, his teeth grazing my earlobe before his mouth found its way back to mine.
Hugo's hands slid down to the hem of my shorts, his calloused fingers tracing the line of my hips before slipping beneath the waistband. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for me to protest, but all I could do was moan into his mouth, my body begging for more. With a swift movement, he lifted me, breaking our kiss only long enough to pull my shorts and underwear down my legs. I felt the cool air kiss my skin before Hugo's warm, firm hands returned to my bare ass, lifting and spreading my cheeks as he groaned into my ear. His breath was hot against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
He stood, his muscles flexing as he carried me to the kitchen table, our kiss never breaking. Each step echoed through the house, a testament to his power and control. I could feel the fabric of his shorts, straining against his erection, as it brushed against my inner thigh. The anticipation was agonizing, and I could barely contain my moans as Hugo laid me down on the cool surface. He took a step back, his eyes raking over me like a sculptor admiring his work. His gaze was hungry, a stark contrast to the gentle way his fingertips traced my collarbone.
"Daddy," I murmured, the word slipping out in a breathy whisper. It was a title filled with longing and submission, and the power it held thrilled me to the core. Hugo's eyes darkened at the sound, his chest heaving with desire. He reached for the button of his own shorts, his massive hand trembling slightly as he pulled the zipper down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and I couldn't help but stare, my mouth watering at the sight of it.
Hugo took charge, his movements swift and precise as he took control of the situation. His hand guided mine to his shaft, the velvety skin hot and pulsing in my grip. He groaned, the sound low and guttural, as I began to stroke him gently, learning the rhythm that made him moan. His hips bucked slightly with each stroke, his eyes never leaving mine as he directed my movements with subtle nods and the tightening of his jaw. His dominance was palpable, a stark reminder of his authoritative nature in the bedroom as much as in his previous career.
"I have the feeling you're not new to this, Dylan." Hugo rumbled, his voice thick with lust. I could see the statement in his eyes, the shimmer of parental care. It wasn't a question but an unspoken pledge that he couldn't hold back and that it was on me to stand up for myself, to hold him back when he reached my limits.
"You might be loose enough for me, little one," he continued to murmur, his voice a dark chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. His words played into the stereotype he had mentioned earlier, while the kitchen light played off the muscles in his arms as he positioned himself between my legs, his cock hovering just above my entrance.
Hugo's hand was firm and commanding as he guided himself to me, his eyes never leaving mine as he tried to push into me with a deliberate pressure. The feeling was overwhelming, his thickness and length stretching my opening to the point of pain. I winced, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him, but Hugo was unyielding, his expression a mix of concentration and hunger. He paused, his cock just at my entrance, his hand tightening around the base of his shaft.
"You're so tight, Dylan," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "I'm not going to fit."
I nodded, but wasn't quick enaugh to respond before He was already reaching behind him for the olive oil from the kitchen counter. He looked at me with a glint in his eye, and I couldn't help but grin at the similarity to Henry's earlier actions. Hugo poured a generous amount of the oil onto his hand, his movements deliberate and purposeful. The smell of the oil filled the air, mixing with the musky scent of our desire. It was clear that he was going to take charge of this situation just like he had with everything else in his life, from his career as a general to the way he dominated the dinner conversation.
With a firm grip on his cock, Hugo smeared the oil down the length of his shaft, his hand moving with a confidence that was both intimidating and incredibly sexy. He was taking his time, savoring the moment, and it was all I could do to not beg for him to fill me up already. His hand stroked slowly, the wet sound of the oil mixing with the ragged sound of our breathing.
When he was satisfied with the amount of lubrication, Hugo leaned over me, his muscular body casting a shadow across my chest. He was so much larger than me, so much more powerful, and yet there was something in the way he looked at me, as if he was seeing me in a whole new light. He reached down, placing his cock at my entrance again, and I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the stretch.
With a rough push, he began to enter me, his cock stretching my opening. I could feel the resistance, the tightness that had Hugo's eyes widening with surprise. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and awe. Inch by inch, he pushed into me, his muscles tensing with the effort. The second my first moan escaped, Hugo's hand shot out and grabbed a kitchen towel, stuffing it into my mouth with a smirk.
I could only fit about half of him inside, but Hugo was insistent, his hips rocking back and forth in a slow, but rough motion that had me moaning into the kitchen towel. His smirk was wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he whispered, "Don't want your brothers hearing you, do we?"
The fabric of the towel was rough against my teeth and tongue, muffling my cries of pleasure as he inched deeper. The sensation of being filled by him was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that had my eyes rolling back in my head. His muscles flexed and tightened as he pushed into me, the kitchen table creaking beneath our weight.
After a few moments, Hugo paused, a look down my own body told me that he had hit the halfway point. His cock was indeed as thick as Henry's, but the extra length made it seem like an impossible feat to take him fully. "This might be as far as I can go," he said, his voice strained with lust. "You might want to train for this, boy," he said with a smirk, the challenge clear in his eyes.
I nodded, my body already writhing with pleasure from the sheer size of him. Hugo's grip on the base of his cock was firm, his forearm flexing with the tension of holding back. He pulled out slightly, the feeling of his shaft sliding along my inner walls sending waves of sensation through me.
He pulled out, leaving me feeling both relieved and strangely empty. Hugo's cock glistened with the oil, still rock-hard and thick. He stepped back, his chest heaving with exertion and lust. "You're so fucking tight, Dylan," he said, his voice thick with desire. "But I've got to be honest with you, I'm on a dry streak. This isn't going to take long."
Hugo reached down and grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before stepping around the table. I watched him, my eyes wide with anticipation as he approached me. The sight of him, so powerful and in control, was intoxicating. He leaned down, his abs rippling with each movement, and pulled the towel from my mouth with a grin.
He leaned in, his hand wrapping around the back of my head and pulling it up, my mouth opening reflexively. He looked into my eyes, his own dark with need. "You're going to take care of me, aren't you?"
The question was rhetorical, but I nodded eagerly, my eyes never leaving his. Hugo's grin grew wider, his teeth flashing in the dim light of the TV. He positioned himself, the tip of his massive, throbbing cock brushing against my lips. The smell of him filled my nostrils, musky and male, and I felt my own arousal spike.
Hugo's hand guided me, his grip firm but gentle as he pushed his cock into my mouth. I couldn't help but moan around him, the sensation of being filled by him so intense it was almost painful. His shaft was long and thick, the veins standing out in stark relief against the smooth, oiled skin. I could feel the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, the slightest hint of saltiness already present.
I watched him, as good as I could, as he began to fuck my mouth, his abs contracting with each thrust. His eyes laid on me, watching his cock disappear in my mouth, the sight of it making him groan with pleasure. I knew my dad was a man who had seen and done everything, yet the way he looked at me, like I was the sweetest dessert he had ever laid eyes on, made me feel like the most desired person in the world.
I continued to watch my dad, the person who I had looked up to for my entire life, now standing over me. I could see the muscles in his neck strained. His breathing grew heavier, and I knew he was just as into this as I was. The thought of making him cum, of being the one to give him release after so long, had me eagerly sucking harder, my tongue flicking against the underside of his cock with every pullback.
The feeling of his cock pushing into my throat was intense, and I had to concentrate to keep from gagging. But I didn't want to disappoint him. I wanted to be the perfect son, the perfect partner for him in every way. I swallowed around him, taking him deeper, feeling the head of his cock hit the back of my throat and then slide back out with a wet pop. Hugo's eyes rolled back, he groaned, his hand tightening in my hair, pulling me back onto him, pushing me down further until I could feel his balls against my face.
I moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers through him. My saliva dripped down, over my forehead, and onto the floor, making everything slick and slippery. I knew he was close, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back. And then, he pulled out of my mouth, his cock bobbing in the air as ropes of cum shot out, coating my face and shirt, and splattering onto the kitchen table.
Hugo's face was a mask of ecstasy, his eyes tightly shut as he pumped out the last of his load. His hand was still wrapped around the base of his cock, milking out the last few drops, which landed on my chin and chest. I lay there, panting, the taste of him on my tongue and the warmth of his seed on my body.
"Oh Fuck, Dylan," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "We've got a problem now."
I looked up at him, his cum glistening on my face, and I couldn't help but smile. "What's the problem?" I asked, wiping a drop of his cum from my cheek with the back of my hand.
Hugo took a step back, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "This isn't exactly the relationship I was expecting to have with my son," he said, his voice tinged with both shock and amusement.
I sat up, wiping the excess cum from my face with the back of my hand, and grinned at Hugo. " "Well, it's definitely not your typical father-son bonding," I admitted, "but it's worth it."
Hugo's eyes searched mine, a mix of amazement and bewilderment. "I didn't expect you to be into your own dad, Dylan," he said, taking a step back as if to process the gravity of the situation.
"And I didn't expect my dad to fuck me with such an animalistic hunger," I quipped back, the aftermath of our passionate encounter painting a vivid picture of our newfound dynamic. Hugo's cheeks flushed, a rare sight on his stoic face, but his eyes held a spark of excitement that mirrored my own.
The room was still, the only sound the heavy breathing of two men who had just crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
"We should clean up," Hugo said, his voice still thick with arousal, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He took in the scene before us: droplets of cum on the kitchen table, on me and even his shirt... but at least the oil was mostly contained. I couldn't help but think back to my encounters with Henry and the way he had been so careless with the oil.
In my mind, I couldn't help but compare the two men as they approached our taboo rendezvous so differently. Henry was all passion and impulsiveness, his muscles flexing without thought, his desires overwhelming any sense of decorum. Hugo, on the other hand, was precise and calculated, he knew what he wanted form the start, even in his lust.
