panic-room

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Subject: Horny Dad Tales 9 Horny Dad Tales Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail) Horny Dad Tales 9 Panic Room This series includes a little rougher stuff than I normally write. I’ve been looking for a change of pace. If you like it drop me a line: billdrake@hotmail. For more of my stories check out the authors page at Nifty, or for the most recent updates check out my yahoo hoo/group/drakestories/ The usual disclaimers apply: for adult readers only. Contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between men, some of whom are related. Panic Room My son looked so hot like that, his face pressed flat into the cold metal surface of the table, his hands handcuffed behind his muscle-sinewed back, his baseball pinstripes pulled down midthigh. His burly, hairy coach was working a dick of death in between those hard bubble cheeks dusted with blond peach fuzz. About six inches deep, the man met resistance and furrowed his powerful ass in an attempt to shove more in. Finally with a harsh stab, the prick cleared the inner passage and Jeff’s toe-curling scream reverberated off the cinderblock cellar walls. The neighbors wouldn’t hear his cries, thank God. “Thought you said your boy was broken in,” the guy grunted. I still didn’t know his coach’s first name, just a moniker of “Coach H” that I’d heard Jeff talk about. I looked down at my own eight-incher sticking up from my spread hairy thighs. “Hell, buddy, you got a couple inches on me. Bigger round, too.” Coach H just grinned and shoved it all in. Deep, fast. I shoulda known better than to get into this depraved shit. I was a G Man. Career FBI, Agent of the Year three years running, a medium-tall cut of no-nonsense federal cop material… strong… silent… you know the picture. I wasn’t so beefy that I looked awkward in the dark blue suits I wore regularly for my job, but carried enough taut, powerhouse muscle to do an agent’s job and do it well. I guess my dick always got me in trouble, though. Cost me my marriage when Kate found me fooling around with the office secretary. Bachelor life probably suited me more anyway, and I soon became a connoisseur of man-on-man sex, sneaking it in whenever I could. The one thing I missed was spending time with the boy, other than the occasional weekend and the little league games I managed to fit into my busy schedule. Jeff had lived with the ex til his hormones surged in his teenage years and he began acting out. I still remember that fateful day his mother sent him to live with me. “I don’t know what to do with him, Frank,” she cried into the phone, at her wit’s end. “He’s out of control.” The minute he walked in the door, he threw down his duffel bag and curled his lip at me. “Get away from me, fucker.” That did it. I threw the meanest right hook I had and sent him hurling against the plaster. After his body recoiled with the aftershock, he looked at me in a mix of surprise, hurt and defiance. “Fuck!” he yelled and lunged at me. He was a big strapping boy, a cocky star athlete just beginning to enter his prime of manhood. Only he wasn’t there yet, and he shoulda known better than to take on his Daddy. I quickly wrestled him to the living room floor blocking his punches with a few of my own. By the tenth flail of his fist, he was starting to comprehend who’s in charge. By the time I held his arms down above his head, he was whimpering in capitulation. By the time I grabbed his shorts and yanked them down, he looked at me defeated, fearful, resigned. “Dad… don’t,” he muttered the second my flared istanbul travesti cockhead guided along the fine hairs of his warm quivering inner thighs and touched his exposed pucker. I was hard, determined and angry. I breached him dry. Call me a sick, perverted rapist, but within five minutes flat my Jeff was proving that the mansized cock swinging between his ballplayer legs could shoot a mansized load. From that point on, my boy and I understood each other. Even from across the room, the scene was hot, real fucking hot. Coach H was a powerful machine of man muscle, short, brickhouse built… a gruff fucker with a mean round pair of butt muscles that was driving some serious cock into my son. That deep teen baritone reverberated off the wall and trembled way down in my guts. This afternoon was gonna be one for the record books. I approached and was immediately rewarded with a close-up view. Coach’s manrammer pushed wide and deep; it was slick with natural juices and we both conspired to admire the weapon that was plugging away at my boy. Jeff’s meaty cheeks shivered with each rough pounding they took. I can’t describe it, but teen jock muscle jiggles from impact in its own special way. Small, quick undulations, before the natural tautness of the muscle regains the upper hand. I clasped my hand on Coach H’s sweaty, hard back as I scooted my body right next to his as he fucked away at my boy. Never missing a beat, the gruff man grinned and nodded in collusion. “You sure raised one hell of a fuck.” “I wasn’t going to let you take him without a slicker.” He huffed, heavily thrusting his hips. “Afraid Coach has cooties?” “Nah.” I ran my hands along his sweaty chest, taking a second to tweak his nipples. That got a rise of him. “Afraid the boy would like it too much.” “Heh,” he laughed, then our heads bounced, as our mouths sought out each other’s heat. It was a special kiss we shared, not an expression of affection for each other, but a feedback loop of the desire we each held for my son. I dipped my fingers into the open jar of grease and wedged them deep into the cleft of Coach’s rounded, thrusting ass. Coach smiled and removed a hand off Jeff’s waist to grip my cock, which he twisted and squeezed in his hard hand. “Good idea, buddy. This puppy’s just the thing to edge me through.” I don’t know what college sport Coach had played to get back muscles like he had, but I’ll just say I knew I was fucking 100% man. The hard, hairy surface of his buttbrawn stimulated my rigid stalk, and I felt more alive than I ever had. I slicked up, slapped it in place, and slipped my way past Coach’s natural defenses. Coach may have had the power, but I had stealth. As my heavy scrotum kissed up against those furry asscheeks, Coach H stood still except for his hips, which pushed back against my invading dick. His lower body actually quivered against my pelvis. “Ahh, buddy, that feels nice.” I humped against the burly man. Hard, driving thrust, raising Coach onto his toes. “I could say the same thing. You’re so fucking tight.” I pulled back and pistoned in again. Coach sucked in a breath of air and held it for a second as his innards got rearranged. As my bone prodded his internal gland he exhaled excitedly. “Normally not into it, man, but I gotta admit… you know how to fuck. Can see why Jeffrey boy has the hots for his daddy.” Unable to achieve any lateral movement, Jeff now was raising his prize ass up and down. Like he was the one doing the fucking. I guess he was getting kadıköy travesti used to his Coach’s fat one. I looked over the big man’s shoulder and saw it. His cock, wet, plunging into Jeff’s hole. My boy’s motions pivoted more coachcock into his tender guts. The wet, gripping sensation of his violated ass in turn sent sensations through Coach H’s brawny body that I could only imagine compared to the best lays the man had experienced. The gruff fucker melted in my arms, the filling in a hot dad-son sandwich. “Aw, that’s it, man,” he huffed, as his chest puffed out, his hips swiveled in overdrive. “Your fuckstick’s working wonders. Gonna drive me wild, stud.” He leaned his head back and bit his lip, then cried out. Louder than Jeff. A real man’s orgasm. The kind he only gets while assfucking at both ends. “Christ almighty,” he swore as he caught his breath, adding a few other choice words. “I think I turned your boy’s hole into a fucking sperm swamp. Thanks for letting me fuck ‘im.” He twisted his bullneck around and our lips met at an angle. I teased his sweaty torso with my fingertips and pumped his ass in long, slow strokes. “I’m getting a pretty hot fuck outta this too,” I grunted, my tongue teasing his wet, full lips. We disentangled and Coach stepped back from his prize perch. As the fat mushroom head cleared the gates, he slapped Jeff’s buns with the full surface of his hand. Whether out of anger or appreciation I couldn’t tell. The boy’s meaty cheeks jiggled and flushed red from the force. Very soon my erect cock was nudging against my son’s freshly seeded hole. His jock pucker was tight, but Coach had fucked away its defenses. I pushed forward into hot, spermy son-ass. This was the first time I’d shared Jeff and relished the feel of another man’s seed around my dick. Taking another man’s seconds made me experience my boy’s ass in a new way. “Ooh, that’s hot, fellas,” Coach groaned as he stood beside us flogging his stick. “Can’t believe I’m watching a father fuck his own boy.” “Believe it,” I answered back. I was too worked up, so I dispensed with the foreplay and the warmup. Just settled in and started fucking. Gave a good, steady sprint of a piston thrust, til I needed a breather then paced myself a half-minute before working up to a full steam again. Jeff moaned and thrashed. I reached down and grabbed those pillows of buttmuscle and spread them so I could watch my dadcock pound in and out of that slick, tight opening. I know I was dripping enough pre-jizz to compete with the full load Coach H had discharged into Jeff. I had been so absorbed in dicking my boy that I’d forgotten about Coach. All of a sudden I feel his fat, heavy monster poking the base of my nutsac. I immediately turned around and saw a man ready for round two. “Un-uh,” I warned. I was not gonna get fucked. Coach looked up and registered what I was saying. “No, man, it’s not you.” He was so evidently horny his voice nearly broke. “I thought maybe… you and me… in Jeff… at the same time.” “Fuck!” I swore, but my smile must have told Coach I didn’t disapprove of the idea. My prick was steel hard inside Jeff. Coach smiled in response and rubbed my back as his cock danced up against the length of mine. “Your Jeff ever get doubledicked before?” “Today’s gonna be his first.” Coach stepped back and looked at me with a combination of satisfaction, thanks, and horniness. “Think he can handle it?” His eyebrows raised in a challenge. I shoulda had second thoughts. Especially since I had bakırköy travesti seen the huge tool Coach H extracted from my boy’s innards. Certified double-wide cuntsplitter. “Yeah.” It was gonna be one hell of a tight fit, but I had every confidence in my son. Coach pushed me forward til my chest was flat against Jeff’s back. His baseball jersey was sweat-soaked and I could feel my boy shiver in fear and anticipation. “Shh, it’s all right Jeff,” I whispered to assure him. I spread my legs til I was in a frog-position on top of my son, feeling Coach’s abs press against my back as his dong pressed against the base of my prick. Against Jeff’s tight, stuffed assring. Then, penetration. “Ow! Aw fuck!” Jeff hissed. He started breathing heavy and I felt it. Coach H’s megacock slide in, bore in til it started slip-sliding against mine. I thought I was gonna nut then and there. The heat, the vice grip of my son’s ass, that big slick cock playing against mine like a master fiddler. I craned my face down to eye level with Jeff. There were tears in his eyes, but a content, fucked out look, too. I ran my hand up and down the sweaty T-shirt covering his teen body shivered beneath my touch. “Dad,” he murmured. “You’re doing great, son,” I encouraged, pressing my lips to his. They accepted my mouth and my tongue hungrily. Sure enough, he relaxed enough, barely enough, to let both me and the Coach in. And I know my dick was harder, more erect, larger than it had ever been. It was like Coach H had worked up a sexual beast in my boy that just waited to be unleashed. He started moaning wildly and bucking his hips. Rubbing his cock against cold metal could hardly feel great, but he was desperate to get off. “I think your boy like it,” Coach laughed sinisterly. Gripping my waist, he used the leverage to pull out slowly, then thrust back in. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. That prick, ass combo felt magnificent against my cock. Jeff was gonna get doubledicked more often, I decided. “Daddy likes this too, huh?” the man added. “This should be illegal,” I answered. “I’m not even all the way,” Coach declared. “Got about six inches in the boy, and that seems to be enough.” He pressed in a little further and I felt Jeff’s body shake beneath me. It wasn’t gonna take much more to push the guy over the edge. Suddenly, I felt Coach’s hands grip my waist and pull me back. At the same time his prick pistoned back, mine withdrew. Then, slowly and surely, he pushed back in, placing the palm of his hands on my butt to work my stalk in at the same pace. We were truly fucking my boy together. Two pricks violating that hole in tandem, so that Jeff was getting truly shafted by one giant doubledick. Somehow we worked up our pace from slow to medium to fast. A few of the quick deep strokes and Jeff was howling on that metal table and adding his seed to its cold hard surface. That tripped our wires, too. Coach shot off first, and I could feel his hot spray all along the tip of my cock that was buried deep in my son. The fluttering liquid tickled and sent me shooting too. To this day I don’t know how Jeff’s bowels were able to hold all we shot in him. When we were done and disentangled, I unlocked the handcuffs and helped my son shake out the cramps in his arm and leg muscles. Giving me a sheepish smile, Jeff threw his ballplaying arms around my back and pushed his face to mine. In front of his approving Coach, he gave his dad a deep, loving kiss. I heard Coach H laugh at our perverted display. My son broke off the kiss finally and looked me in the eye. “Thanks, Dad. That was… intense.” “Yah,” was all I could manage for an answer. My boy’s hands traced their way down my chest and abdomen, down to grip my prick. His daddy’s cock. “Fuck, Dad, you’re still hard as a brick.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32