I've never been so angry in my life! My face long ago morphed to purple with rage. The tires on my car let out an ear-splitting squeal, as I cut a corner short and slammed on my brakes to park. The few people in the parking lot at 3:10 a.m. scuttled quickly toward their destinations without looking up, probably because they feared making eye contact with a crazy person. To emphasize my anger, even though no one in the parking lot cared, I slammed the car door so hard the vehicle shook and stomped across the street to the entrance to the police station, where a policeman eyed me warily. I grunted in his direction and charged through the door. Blair, my teenaged son, was inside. He’d been arrested!
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I'm a 45-year old single father of two boys — Blair, 19, and Connor, 18. My boys, young men actually, have been the focus of my life for almost two decades. I've made lots of sacrifices over the years from breaking off promising relationships to potential new jobs in other cities. I didn't mind these sacrifices, because I loved my kids and wanted them to have a better life experience growing up than me. (I was subjected to parental alcoholism and frequent corporal punishment.)
Anyone can tell my boys are brothers. Both are good looking (I'm prejudiced, of course). They're smart, getting straight A's in high school, even in their college prep courses. They're also good athletes. Blair ran track in high school and, even now that he's graduated, finds time to run most days. Connor is a talented swimmer on his high school team and wins most races. He's earned a swimming scholarship to college next year. As you can tell, I'm proud of them.
The biggest difference between the boys is that Blair is more adventurous, spontaneous, and non-conformist. Plus, he has the innate ability to make friends almost instantly. He's always trying new things (he's going through a "nudist phase" around the house now! Last year, it was dying his hair red or yellow or white.), willing to change plans at the "drop of a hat," and ready to participate in new adventures. After high school, Blair opted not to go to college like his friends but to take a gap year to "horse around," something Conner would never think of doing. A few days after graduation (long enough time to recover from a drunken all-night graduation party), he and three buddies took a two week trip up and down the coast "seeing the sites" (meaning, I think, getting drunk most nights and "bedding down" random young ladies). Soon after getting home from his bacchanal, he got a good job at a toney downtown restaurant where he makes great tips. (I'm sure his good looks and engaging personality help with the tips.) He's applied for, and been accepted to, college next year.
Connor's more mentally focused and calm than Blair. As I said, he's already been accepted to college. No gap year for him! He gets better grades in high school (4.0, rather than Blair's 3.7) because he concentrates more on his studies than Blair. Connor also involved himself in a myriad of social activities outside of school (volunteering to deliver meals to the elderly on Sundays and doing odd jobs at a homeless shelter, although he gave that up his senior year). Connor's not as spontaneous as Blair — he makes meticulous plans ahead of time and sticks to them. Connor may not have the quantity of friends that Blair has, since Blair is the type that knows everyone, but Connor's friends are quality kids.
We're three guys living in the same house for 15 years. Although we each have household and yard chores, many times the dusting and vacuuming slides for a while (weeks maybe!), the dishwasher doesn't get turned on until we're down to the last dinner plate and spoon, and the laundry doesn't get washed until somebody has only one clean pair of underwear. But, we rarely argue, have good senses of humor, pitch in to help each other, and love and respect each other as only a family can.
On a typical morning, I'm up a little before 5:00 a.m. (I know) and out of the shower and into the kitchen by 5:30, making coffee. (On days I'm not teleworking, which is half the time, I like to get to the office by 7:00.) Connor is down at 5:45, wearing only his speedo. He prepares a large breakfast and I help. (He’s a swimmer, meaning he consumes lots of food.) After eating, Connor heads back to his room to dress for practice (t-shirt and sweatpants). He carries his books and school clothes in a backpack. A neighbor lady, who has a son, Vince, who swims and is Connor's best friend, drives them to practice.
I must admit, and it's a terrible admission to make, that I look at my sons with some degree of desire! They are handsome with great bodies. Both have wavey almost curly black hair piled on top of their heads and shorter hair on the sides. (I think teens refer to this as the broccoli cut.) Both stand six feet tall, but Blair is slightly taller. They have smooth chests, flat abs, piercing dark eyes, and are developing some muscles. I try not to stare but, lately, it's hard not to with Blair's naked body on full display around the house, including a large dick flopping around, while Connor's dick is bunched up inside a skimpy speedo protected only by the suit's thin fabric. And, both have butt cheeks as smooth as marble. (The "gene-pool god" must have made visits on their conception nights.) There is lots of masturbation in my bedroom at night, followed by waves of guilt about my disgusting thoughts, plus promises not kept to never have lustful thoughts about my sons again.
@@@@@@@@@@
In the police station, I sat on a concrete-hard wooden bench defaced by scores of initials from people who'd sat here before me. My temper had abated somewhat, although it was still boiling beneath the surface. I kept asking myself a variant of the same question, "How could Blair be so irresponsible?" Michael Meade, my friend and attorney, who has some pull at city hall, sat beside me. We paid the bond to get Blair out of jail and now twiddled our thumbs, waiting for a policemen to bring him to the waiting room. The charges against Blair, made my head spin — driving under the influence, speeding, running a red light, failing to yield, and destruction of property (as he was being stopped by the police, Blair's car destroyed a trash can, which had a "Drive Safely" poster on it, according to a bemused cop.). Michael was concerned that Blair could be in some "hot water." He thought the minor charges could be negotiated away but maybe not the drunk driving or destruction of property charges. From experience with these cases, he anticipated community service and AA meetings. I had a throbbing headache, thinking about the potential negative implications of a police record on Blair's future. Finally, about 6:30 a.m., an officer led Blair into the room.
“Here's Johnny Walker," I growled sarcastically. Blair reacted with a pained look on his face. At least, Blair appeared mostly sober after sitting in a holding cell for about 7 hours. "My car's outside. Let's go!” I said sharply.
"I'll be in contact when I hear something from the city attorney," Michael said. I nodded. Blair looked at the floor.
Once in the car, Blair sat in the back seat. Blair hasn't sat there since he was young. I suppose he did so to avoid me! He could tell I was pissed. We drove home in silence.
Connor met us at the front door with a look of concern on his face. He was wearing a tiny red speedo with blue side panels, because he had a swim meet at 9:00. Usually, that sight caused my heart to skip a beat, but not now. Connor said, “I made some eggs and bacon, if anyone’s hungry. There’s coffee and juice too.”
Both Blair and I muttered “Thanks.” Blair can speak! Since I wasn’t really concentrating on the ensuing back and forth between the kids, I didn’t hear everything, but I heard Blair say something to the effect that, “You’re a good driver. You can chauffeur me around town when I'm drinking!”
I fucking lost it! I turned in anger and slapped Blair across the face — slapped him hard — for trying to be funny at a time like this. Instantly, I knew it was a terrible mistake. Despite the poor judgment Blair had shown, he didn’t need his father to lose emotional control. The anger that produced my slap became horror, as I watched Blair’s face melt in a nanosecond, turning from the slight smile brought on from his attempt at humor with Connor, to watery eyes and a wavering chin that indicated Blair was on the verge of tears. He backed away from me, said "Fuck you," sprinted up the stairs to his room, and slammed the door. I started to follow him, but Connor grabbed my arm and stopped me.
“Don’t,” he said. “Let him be. He doesn't want to see you now!” Wisdom from the mouths of babes!
Connor and I ate in silence, with Connor radiating waves of disapproval in my direction. After breakfast, Connor and I did a little clean up, before I drove him to the swim meet. Connor’s team won the meet, although the score was close and the races exciting. It did me good to watch a hundred or so teenage boys in speedos and tight jammers, many with great bodies, walking around the pool deck. It gave me a chance to think about something other than last night, my gross overreaction to Blair's joke, and my exhaustion. I was awake enough to notice that when wet, Connor’s red speedo was partially see through, as the darkness of his ass crack was plainly visible as well as the contours of his cock. Hmmm, perhaps something to distract me from thoughts of Blair in the privacy of my bedroom tonight?
At home, we noticed that Blair hadn't come down from his room to eat the leftovers stored in the refrigerator. By evening (and after I took an hours-long nap that somewhat relieved my weariness), we still hadn't seen him.
“Why don’t I go up to his room and persuade him to eat,” I said.
"No, dad! Chill out! Why don't you leave the house for, say, a couple of hours," Connor said. "Maybe, with you gone, I can get him to come downstairs."
“Really? Ya think ya can get him down?”
“I'll try! Just leave!”
"Well, I guess.” Connor comes through again.
While serving my banishment, I ate at my favorite restaurant and reflected on my role in this long and terrible day. Because I didn't want to be like my father, I'd promised the boys when they were 4 or 5 years old that I would never physically punish them — no hitting or spanking — if they did something "wrong." I kept my promise for a decade and a half until I messed up today. It was a promise that I should've never broken, and I regretted it. As an adult, I should have the maturity and discipline to control my temper. My sons are the most important things in my life. Yes, Blair showed abysmal judgment but, maybe even worse, so did I. I resolved to apologize for my behavior, if Blair would let me.
When I returned home, Connor was in the family room playing video games. My first question was, "Has Blair come down yet?"
"Yes. He ate. We talked."
"About ....?"
"He wants to apologize to you for what happened."
"Should I go up now?"
"Yeah, now would be good." I started to leave the room, but Connor asked, "Can I spend the night at Vince's? I've already got his mom's permission. Too much drama here!"
"Sure. Go ahead."
@@@@@
A few moments later, I tapped on Blair's door. I was rewarded with a "Yeah." I opened the door and saw Blair lying on his side on his bed completely naked, scrolling through his phone.
"We should talk," I said.
Blair sat up and swung his feet off the bed so they were on the floor. Blair looked at the wall on the opposite side of the room for a long moment, before turning his attention to me and pouring out his apology. "I'm so sorry, dad. I didn't mean none of this. My friends and I we were just gonna buy movie tickets. Larry texted us about a party. We ditched the movie and went. I was there for like an hour and a half and had only a beer and then someone brought out the hard stuff for shots. I knew I was drinkin way too many, but it was fun and we were laughing so hard and flirting with girls and it was fun and I got drunker and drunker. And, and, I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Barry, he, he wasn't drinkin, drove us back to the theater parking lot and we all got in our cars. I shouldn't ah drove. I know better but …. I was just stupid, so stupid. I've never drove drunk before, I swear. Ya got to believe me! Drunk drivin is wrong. I know I let you down. And, I cussed at you. That's wrong. I let myself down, but letting you down is the worst. I …., I …. can't ever make this up to you, but I'll try. I was so stupid. I wasn't thinking." During his soliloquy, Blair got up and walked toward me, closing to within a few feet. I could see tears in his eyes, as his glances moved between my face and the floor.
"There's something I need to say too. I'm sorry for slapping you. I let my anger take over. That was really, really stupid. I broke my promise to you — a father should never break his promise — that I'd never hit or spank you and for that I am sorry. You and Connor are the most important people in my life and, and, I can't believe I failed you so completely today when I shoulda been helping."
We embraced. Tears flowed down Blair's cheeks, which caused my eyes to water. Blair mumbled again and again, "I'm sorry." I responded over and over with, "That's okay, son," and "Today's a learning experience for both of us." I eventually moved an arm up and tousled his hair.
"Dad, you're messing up my hair!"
"I know, but that's part of my job as a dad." Blair smiled — a million dollar smile. And, I smiled back.
Since shortly after our embrace, I'd felt a hard poke at my groin area! After the exchange of smiles, I discretely rearranged my feet, creating maybe an inch of space between our bodies for a second or two. I looked down the narrow gap and was treated to an overhead view of Blair's erection — a purple head with a dollop of pre-cum sitting on his piss slit staring back at me. I couldn't believe my eyes. I resumed the hug, pressing our bodies together. I was perplexed about what to do or think. Why did Blair have a boner? Should I keep hugging Blair until his boner goes away? Should I say anything?
In an instant, although it seemed like 10 minutes, I realized I had an escape from this embarrassing situation. “What do you think is an appropriate punishment for your actions?” I’d always required Blair and Connor to determine punishments for their misdeeds as kids. They’d been fairly honest in coming up with penalties (less TV, more chores, grounded for a week). Many times the penalties were tougher than ones I would’ve imposed.
Blair's response was shocking. He disengaged from my arms and dropped to his knees in front of me! Before my sleep-deprived mind had a chance to process what was happening, he pulled down my shorts. "What are you doing?" I gasped.
Blair didn't answer. Instead, as my shorts fell to the floor, Blair started pulling on my underwear. Within a second or two, my cock was exposed!
“This is for you, dad! My punishment!” His tongue made contact with the head of my dick, which instantly started to chub up. (I didn't know blood could travel so fast!) Then, he lapped his tongue around and around my cock head, bathing it with his saliva. I should’ve objected immediately and demanded that he stop, but the incredible feeling of his tongue on my cock was beyond description, heightened by the fact that it'd been months since anyone had sucked my cock, further heightened by the fact that this was my beautiful son. I was soon rock hard. After a minute or so of tongue action, Blair thrust his head forward and a couple of inches of my seven-inch cock disappeared into his mouth.
"No, no, no! What are you doing?" Blair didn't answer; his mouth was engaged in other activities. "Stop it now! This isn't necessary." Blair kept sucking. Since I must be weak willed, I gave in to the situation.
It wasn’t the best blow job I’ve ever received. In fact, it was the worst. (Once my cock was in his mouth, Blair hardly used his tongue. Rather, he just sucked air in and out over my cock head barely even letting his lips touch my shaft.) But, Blair was earnest and energetic, so I decided not to interrupt him with instructions on how to perform a proper blow job. If anything, I should’ve forced him to stop, as our actions as father and son were highly inappropriate, but I was overcome with lust due to my fantasies over the last many years about Blair and Connor.
Even Blair’s poor attempt at a BJ bore fruit eventually, mainly because his hand was stroking the portion of my cock not in his mouth. I could feel my cum gathering in my balls. Blair kept blowing air and my cum soon started to move quickly up my shaft. “I’m cuming!" I gasped. At the last instant, Blair pulled my cock out of his mouth. I grabbed his head and positioned it directly in front of my cock. (I have a fetish about cuming in the mouth or, at least, on the face.) My load shot out; the first several ribbons of sperm landed in his hair, while subsequent blasts coated his lips and nose and left cheek.
Instant awkwardness. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe that was because there was so much to say! I finally settled on, “Let’s call it a night.” Blair remained on his knees, using his hand to wipe off his face, as I rapidly fled the room.
@@@@@
Early in the morning, there was a knock on my bedroom door, and it opened before I could say anything. It was Blair naked, as usual. He almost tiptoed across the carpet to my bed. "Where's Connor? I don't see him anywhere."
"He spent the night at Vince's."
"No wonder I can't find him."
"I think he wanted to get away from the drama between us." I paused before continuing.
"Son, about last night. I think we need to talk."
"What about? It's just a BJ."
"Well,19-year-old, heterosexual sons don't usually give their fathers blow jobs.”
"I thought you'd like it. I decided that should be my punishment."
"Why'd you think I'd like it?"
"I see how you look at me. And, Connor. I see how you look at guys when we're out somewhere. And, you used to forget videos in the DVD player. With guys having sex! There are no secrets in this house."
"You're jumping to conclusions! I ....," but my response was cut off.
"I bet you're hard right now!"
"Again, not true," I protested, as I tried to rearrange sheets to more thoroughly hide evidence to the contrary.
Blair was too fast. He ripped the sheets off me, tossing them to the side of the bed and exposing my nudity and semi-hard cock.
"Looks like I have more work to do," Blair grinned.
"What? No! It's not what it looks like."
"It's not? It looks like a boner to me. With your son in the room!"
Blair sat by my knee, leaned over, and licked my cock head. I moaned. "See, ya need another blow job."
"You don't have to do this. Last night was more than enough."
Blair ignored my protestations and again took a couple of inches of cock into his mouth. Like last night, he mostly sucked air. I blocked his hand as he tried to move it to my shaft. "No!" I said.
"No? You really want me to stop?"
I paused but then said, "As long as you're giving out BJs, you should learn to do it right! Don't just suck air in and out. Clamp your lips down on my shaft! Use your tongue to bathe my cock head! Oh, that feels good. Move your tongue all around the head and use it on the piss slit. God, yes, that's it. Now, move your tongue up and down the shaft too. Careful with your teeth!”
Blair still didn't have more than a couple of inches of cock in his mouth, so I gently pushed down on his head. That, maybe, got another inch in, but that was enough for now. With my head propped on my pillow, I could look down my chest to see Blair's head bobbing up and down and feel his tongue everywhere on the head of my cock. I also saw the downy skin of Blair's naked torso lying on his side. Letting my gaze wonder further down his body, I saw most of a rigid cock sticking straight out from his groin. God, what a sight!
Blair ministered to my cock for many minutes. It still wasn't the best BJ, but he did more than inhale and exhale air. When I was close to cuming, I told Blair, "Lie on your back." When he did so, I scrambled around and straddled his torso. I masturbated. It didn't take more than a few strokes before I blew a huge load, practically urinating cum over Blair's chin, lips, nose, forehead, and hair. A last glob of semen fell on Blair's closed right eyelid. For me, it was one of the most erotic visual scenes ever!
"Don't open your eyes," I said. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to the bed to dab the semen off Blair’s eyelid. By this time, the cum on Blair’s face was turning watery and running down the sides of his cheek and forehead. Oh, man, that image caused me to stay semi-hard.
As I slowly cleaned his face, I said, “Ya know, son, I call ‘bullshit’ on your reason for giving me a BJ. What’s the real story here? I'm your dad. Be honest.”
There was no immediate response. When I finished cleaning, Blair slowly opened his eyes and sighed. I could tell he was struggling with what he wanted to say. Finally, he said, “The trip. The post graduation trip. With my friends. All four of us stayed in one room to save money. I shared a bed with Barry. We got hammered the first night. I woke up like 3:00 - 4:00 o'clock. Barry’s hand was on my dick. I was hard. And, his hand kept moving around on my crotch, and I liked it! A few days later we didn't go out with the other guys. Barry and I were so burned out from drinking every night that we just crashed. We’re laying on the bed just talking, ya know, and I mentioned that his hand was massaging my crotch a few nights before. We talked. Barry was embarrassed but admitted he was gay. It blew my mind cause I've known him since first grade. I never realized. We talked more. One thing led to another and, well, my cock was soon in Barry’s mouth. And, I liked it! I creamed all over myself. After that, most nights we made up an excuse to get away from the other guys. We'd go back to the room and jack off together or Barry would suck me off. And, since I got back from the trip, that’s what I think about — boys and BJs.“
"You're always so curious. Always trying something new,” I said. It made sense to me that he would try something different sexually.
Blair immediately shot down my theory. “It's more than trying something new. I've been thinking for the last two or three years that I’m bi. But, I may be gay. Right now, I’m not thinking much about girls.”
I was momentarily speechless. Blair was gay or bi! I’d missed all the signs. Like father, like son?
Blair continued, “I wanted to learn how to do a real BJ. So, I thought you could teach me.”
"Your father could teach you? That’s odd, don’t ya think? You never got a BJ from a girl?"
"Yeah, a couple of times, but girls ain’t born knowing how to do it either. And, why is it odd? I knew you liked to look at guys.”
“How bout learning from porn?”
“That shit’s boring. No!”
After some moments of quiet, I said, “I can teach you. We could start now with another BJ, except I have that important community meeting this afternoon about where to put the new swing set. But, don’t worry, we’ll get to it!” During our long talk, Blair’s cock had mostly deflated. I reached out and massaged it until it was rock hard. I leaned over and ran my tongue up his shaft and did a tongue dance on his purple cock head. Blair’s moan was music to my ears. My tongue and mouth worked over Blair's cock. A few minutes later and he was spewing cum all over his chest and stomach.
"Now,: I said, "That's the way to suck cock."
@@@@@
Monday morning early. Connor and I were sitting on bar stools by the kitchen island. Connor was dressed in his red speedo (now my favorite) and chowing down. I was sipping coffee, listening to news on TV, and wearing an old pair of cutoffs. A bleary-eyed Blair stumbled naked into the room.
"Oh, good," Blair said. "I need coffee."
"You need pants," said Connor, pointing at Blair with his fork.
In response, Blair gyrated his hips, causing his cock to dance. "I'll never be able to unsee that," Connor announced, covering his eyes. Connor bused his drinking glass and plate to the sink and rushed upstairs to dress.
Blair and I looked at each other and exchanged smiles. "Hope you're mouth is ready for a learning experience," I whispered.
"Can't wait!" Blair whispered back, licking his lips provocatively.
Connor raced into the kitchen, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "My ride's here. Gotta go. See ya later." Connor shot out the door and moments later we heard the neighbor's car drive away.
I immediately dropped my cutoffs to the floor and sat back down on the barstool. "Now, get me hard."
"Yes, dad!" Blair immediately leaned over and took my cock in his mouth. My cock hardened quickly.
"Take all of it in your mouth,” I said, as I hoisted myself up to sit on the island, so Blair didn't have to bend over as much.
"I don't know if I can do that.”
"You can do it easy. You'll be surprised."
"Well . . . .” Blair only slid a few inches of my cock into his mouth.
"Like yesterday, use your tongue to bathe my head and shaft." Blair followed my directions, causing me to moan with pleasure.
"Okay, now, I'm going to gently push your head down so you take more of my shaft."
Blair grunted something unintelligible. I took it as permission and started pushing on the back of his head. More and more of my cock disappeared down his throat. Blair began gagging and snuffling with about an inch of my cock remaining to go into his throat. Maybe, I should've stopped pushing at this point, but I couldn't help myself. I was horny; I wanted Blair to take it all. I kept pushing until Blair's lips reached my pubic hair. Heaven for me! Hell for Blair, as he gurgled out a huge wad of saliva onto my pubic hair. I stopped pushing and Blair's head bobbed up a couple of inches. He gasped for breath. More phlegm rolled out of his mouth.
"When you feel ready, go down all the way again," I instructed. "Do it without my help."
Blair slowly started, and I mean slowly, to swallow my cock. It took a bit, but my entire shaft disappeared into Blair's mouth without my assistance. My groan was long and loud. The warmth, the tongue action, the sucking, the fact that it was my son's mouth; the feeling was indescribable. Of course, Blair gagged, sending a near constant stream of phlegm onto my pubic hair and balls and eventually dripping on the island. I now applied some pressure on the back of Blair’s skull not letting my son come up for air. The muffled coughing, the hacking, the frantic attempts to contort his body and free his mouth from the invading organ made me wild with lust. I kept complementing Blair on his success, "Atta boy," "Doing great," "Feels good." I withdrew my cock a little and started thrusting deep into Blair's throat. Soon, I could feel jizz pouring into my shaft. I redoubled the pace of my thrusts.
"I'm gonna cum!"
I erupted, flooding his mouth and throat with my semen. It was another great orgasm. I kept shooting and shooting. Every muscle in my body shuddered, as if each muscle was contributing to the orgasm. I kept yelling to Blair not to move, while invoking God’s name.
Finally, my cock stopped spurting. Blair's first oral load! I let my cum and saliva-covered cock slide out of his mouth. "Now, son," I said, "Swallow!"
Blair gave me a wide-eyed look of shock like that was something he didn't contemplate. "Yes, swallow. Your dad wants you to." My son hesitated, I nodded at him, and he swallowed with his eyes closed, as if he was drinking poison.
"Not so bad, is it?" I said. "You'll survive, right?"
Blair gave me a look, as if he disagreed. "It's salty and got sort of a slimy texture," he said.
"Do you want to be a good cocksucker?"
"Yeah."
"Then, you'll need to get used to it."
@@@@@
The following evening Connor and Vince planned to attend a basketball game against a rival high school. That would leave Blair and I alone for at least two to two and a half hours. Blair and I gave each other occasional knowing looks, as the clock ticked toward Connor's 7:00 departure. I felt guilty, counting down the time until my younger son left the house, but I was horny and Blair and I had plans.
A few minutes before 7:00, I peeked into Connors room. "Have a good time at the game tonight."
"I will."
"Is the other team good?"
"They're in first place in the conference, just like their swim team. We have to beat them in something. Oh, Vince and I and some of the guys are going out to eat after the game. That’s okay, isn’t it?
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
I went into my bedroom, stripped, and got hard while laying on the bed. I heard Connor leave and, soon after, Blair's bedroom door opened. Moments later, Blair walked into my room naked and erect. What a sight! Blair had a magnificent erection. His cock, like mine, stood seven inches tall with a purple glistening head. It was probably a little thicker than mine. His balls hung nice and low and, as he walked toward my bed, their swinging temporarily mesmerized me.
"What's the plan for the next two hours?" Blair asked.
"I thought we'd watch square dancing from the nursing home on the community cable channel.”
Blair snorted, "Like that's not happening!"
"You’re dripping precum." As I said this, Blair rubbed a finger on his cockhead and slurped the precum into his mouth. "I see you're practicing on your swallowing techniques." Blair frowned, as if my little joke wasn't funny. "Let's try something a little new," I said.
"I like the sound of that!"
"Somehow, I knew you would. Lie on your back across the bed. Now, move toward me a little, so your head droops over this side. Yes, like that. You've got it. Do you know what’s going to happen?”
“Not sure. But, I think I can guess.”
“This position allows me to slide my cock deep into your throat. Your throat is totally open. I can really face fuck you now."
"Face fuck?"
"You'll see."
"I'm not sure I like those two words together!"
I immediately moved into position over him. Blair looked like he wasn't sure about this. He probably was thinking about yesterday morning and the problems taking my seven inches in his mouth.
I anticipated his trepidation and was honest with him. "This may be more difficult than yesterday, but you'll love it in the end. And, so will your dad."
"I guess I need to learn. Let's do it!"
I bent my knees slightly and pointed my hard cock directly toward Blair's open mouth. My cock inched past his lips, slowly continuing with no problem until it reached a point near the back of his tongue. Then, Blair coughed slightly. At this juncture, I eased forward even slower until Blair's gagging reflex kicked in. I stopped momentarily before resuming the push forward. Lots of coughing and gagging now. Finally, I was fully in, every millimeter of my cock contained in his oral cavity. I employed a few gentle thrusts at first but soon started increasing my pace. Blair's hacking and gagging only intensified. Some phlegm started rolling out of his mouth.
"What do you think of face fucking?" Blair responded with a gurgle and wide eyes. Without warning, I slammed into Blair's throat with a powerful thrust; only physical impossibility kept me from burying my cock even deeper. Again and again, I rammed in as far as I could. As I continued to punish Blair's throat, Blair let out one long wheeze/gag/hack, as a tidal wave of phlegm poured out of the corners of his mouth; the phlegm traveling past the sides of his nose into his eye sockets and, when they filled, continuing across his forehead lodging in his hair. At times, when my cock was fully buried in Blair's throat, I'd fall forward to lie on Blair's body, ensuring that my cock remained buried until I could feel Blair actually start to choke and his chest to heave in search of air. Over and over I slammed in. Finally, after subjecting Blair to this oral assault, and with Blair's face covered with phlegm, his eyes sealed shut by saliva, and his hair hosting big gobs of goo, I unloaded deep into Blair's throat, unleashing blast after blast of milky cream. When the last of my jism dripped from my cock, my body collapsed one final time on Blair's torso, this time in exhaustion, and my spent cock slipped from his mouth. Blair swallowed the small amounts of my semen in his mouth.
"I need a towel," Blair gasped. Rather than heading to the bathroom for one, I grabbed my t-shirt and gently scooped saliva from his eye sockets so Blair could see again. Then, I wiped the rest of his face.
"Did I overdo it?" I was feeling a little guilty. Maybe, I still had some residual anger from Blair's arrest.
"Nah. I took it, didn't I?"
"Not a ringing endorsement but you took it and I'm proud of you!" As Blair was about to roll over, I stopped him. "One more thing," I said. "Clean my cock! Get all the saliva and cum off!"
"Jesus, dad! Really!"
"The guy you blow will like it."
"That makes me seem like some sort of slut."
"No. It just makes you a good cocksucker."
Once again, my cock slid back into Blair's mouth. After Blair's ministrations, my cock emerged with a shiny, clean head and shaft. We sat for a minute or two, catching our breath.
"Fuck it!" Blair said. "Let's do it again!"
“Jesus! Really?" I parroted Blair. "You liked it?”
"I liked it!" I'm not sure Blair was telling the truth, but I let it slide.
This time, Blair knelt in front of me and my semi-hard cock disappeared into his mouth. Blair sucked vigorously and enthusiastically. He had to work for my load but, eventually, I rewarded him with a series of creamy blasts. After I withdrew, Blair kept his mouth open displaying the evidence of my orgasm. Then, he closed his mouth, swallowed, and reopened. My cum was gone, sliding silently into his stomach. He cleaned off my cockhead until it was sparkling without me asking.
"Pleased?" asked Blair.
"Pleased!"
(to be continued)
