PART TWO

I heard his footsteps on the stairs. I’d been waiting for this for about half an hour. My breathing stopped. What now? I wondered. Is this when he beats the shit out of me for being a fag? But man, I’m not a fag. It just happened. The sound of his heavy walk ceased just outside the door. My blood coursed through my veins. There was no knock, but I could hear his breathing. He walked down the hallway to his room. The door closed. I rolled onto my side. I could feel the wet spots on my shirt from where I’d cum.

Dad was gone the next morning when I woke up. He was always gone. I made it seem unusual, given the circumstances the night before, but it wasn’t uncommon at all. I walked into the living room and looked at the scene of my sex crime: the sofa, the kitchen, his bottle of beer still sitting there. His bare chest, the flexing biceps, his mouth — the images flashed through my mind. I grabbed my bags and headed to school.

I got home late that night. Dad was already eating when I walked in the door. I managed an awkward "Hi." There was no response. He sat at the table in faded jeans and an old, colored t-shirt. He was barefooted. He ate his dinner in silence, the only sound his knife as it sliced through his dinner and clanked against the plate. I warmed up my dinner in the microwave, then sat across from him at the table. He didn’t look up. On his face was that same angry expression, masked with a little bit of shame.

"I’m sorry, Dad," I said after a very long silence. He lifted his head and gazed at me. His eyes were black as coal, his stare icy cold.

"I’m…really…"

"Don’t," he said shortly, holding his hand up. "Never. Again," he said, jabbing at the air between us with the tines of his fork.

"Yes, Sir," I said. I dropped my silverware on the table and left the room.

Tensions between Dad and I were high for the next couple of days. I probably hated running into him as much as he hated seeing me. It was too uncomfortable for us to be in the same room. I jacked off thinking about him a few times, which was strange; I’d never thought about a guy when I’d jerked off before, let alone my old man. I replayed it in my mind over and over as I stretched out on my bed stroking my cock.

•

Sometimes it was exactly as it had played out that night — him in the kitchen, me on the sofa. Other times it was different. I heard the door unlock. His silhouette was framed in the doorway. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. He went into the kitchen and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his military-hard body to me. He massaged his chest, ran his hands up and down his muscular trunk. He reached his hands into his blues and massaged his cock, feeling it enlarge in his callused hands. He looked into the darkness and saw me lying on the sofa jacking myself off. My eyes were shut as I savored the feel of my precum coating the shaft of my cock with my hand. I had no idea he had seen me.

Quietly Dad walked across the carpet until he was towering over me behind the armrest. I became aware of a change in the atmosphere and opened my eyes to his thick fingers wrapped around his meaty cock, stroking it above my face. His left hand was on his hip as he thrust his pelvis over me

"Well, well, well. What have we got here? Looks like we’ve got a recruit who’s feeling a little under the gun. Thinking of your girl, are you? Thinking of her lips wrapped around your cock, burying her face in your crotch until you blow a load of cum into her mouth? Or are you thinking about fucking a nice piece of ass? Somebody you saw in the showers on the base today? Nice piece of chiseled Marine ass? Ramming your big cock into that tight, dark hole. Your hands on his hips as he leans against the wall, smashing his cheek against the tile while you give him a fuck he’ll never forget?"

His voice lowered to a whisper, "You want to feel good, son? You want to make us both feel good?" He moved around to the front of the couch. I turned my head, my eyes fixed on his cock and the glistening head. It was thick, matching his physique perfectly. This was a man’s dick. It shot straight out from his body from between the open zipper of his pants. His briefs were under his hairy, low-hanging nuts, which bulged upward from the pressure of the elastic waistband.

He stroked his cock slowly. I looked up. I could see his square jaw, his piercing, dark eyes behind the blurred shape of his cock looming over me. He bent his knees, lowering his cock to my mouth. I didn’t move. I was trying to comprehend what the hell was happening. He held his cock just above my lips and milked the precum from it. A string of it hung motionlessly over my mouth. I watched it as it lengthened, growing thin near the point where it escaped his cock. It broke and fell onto my bottom lip. I pulled my lip into my mouth and sucked it into my throat and again closed my eyes, savoring the taste.

It was then that I felt the press of his flesh against my full lips. He glided the head of his wet cock back and forth across my lips. The scent of musk and sweat hung over me. I inhaled deeply. The pressure on my lips was gone. I opened my eyes to see him lift his dick slightly and then smack it across my cheek.

"Make us feel good, boy. Show me what kind of man you are," he gruffed. I opened my mouth and sought out his cock. It entered me as Dad let out a sigh, "Atta boy. Eat this Marine cock." Slowly I wrapped my lips around his shaft, the head just inside my mouth. I could taste everything I had smelled moments ago. He slowly pushed it forward, deeper into my mouth. His nuts rested on my chin, the better part of Dad’s muscular cock being massaged by my tongue. His shirttails brushed my cheeks as he braced his weight on the back of the couch. My hands on his thighs, I pushed him away from me and sat upright on the couch. He slid his pants and briefs further down his legs, standing with his legs apart. I was envious of the manliness he exuded.

He placed his right hand behind my blond head and pulled me back onto his dick. My tongue explored every side of it as he slid it back into me. I looked again at his face. He stared down at me. His free hand pinched his hairy tit. I bobbed again and again onto Dad’s Marine pecker. My cock gushed precum. It spilled down the sides onto my balls. He did not speak. He observed. My lips were secured around his brown, veiny cock. He pulled it out until the tip was just outside my mouth before leaning back into me. Slowly his shaft disappeared into my flesh. He watched the progress with satisfaction, as each of the seven inches sought the warmth of my, his son’s, throat.

I reached my hands behind him and placed them on his muscular ass. My fingers moved slowly around his butt, squeezing the muscle, feeling his flesh mesh with my hands. He sighed. My head surged forward until I could feel his abdomen against my forehead. An overwhelming feeling of fullness consumed me. My fingers followed the curvature of his stone-hard ass. It flexed at my touch. His flesh was cool in comparison to my hands. As I explored his ass I touched his downed, sweaty crevice. He bent slightly. My left hand remained on his ass cheek, but I reached my right between his legs. My hand ran lengthwise down the split of his ass. The further down my hand descended, the warmer and wetter his valley became. I could feel the tender flesh of his anus against my index finger. As I crossed this opening he shuddered slightly, a moan escaping from between his whiskered lips. So I did it again, retracing my last touch.

He shoved his dick harder into my mouth. I brought my right hand to my mouth, briefly interrupting the assaulting face-fuck. Before placing my fingertip in my mouth to wet it, I ran it under my nose. It smelled like a man should smell. My cock swelled even more. Saliva wrapped my fingertip as I again sought out Dad’s ass. I located the sensitive opening and traced my finger lightly across it, soaking it with my spit. I rubbed around the opening in a circular motion, each time pressing a little harder. The Marine’s breathing grew frantic. The grip on my head grew stronger.

His ass opened slowly with each stroke I made. Slowly I pressed upward and my finger slid inside the soldier’s butt. It closed around my finger as I shoved it deep inside him. It was slick and warm. My finger was completely inside my father’s asshole. I felt his dick spasm in my mouth. I probed into him, withdrew, then stuck it back into his tight ass. His breathing grew shallow. He clenched his ass muscles around my finger. I increased the speed of my finger-fuck. I thrust into him harder and harder. He held my neck firmly in his hands. His cock became warmer. He fucked my mouth with fury.

"That’s it, Heath. Fuck my ass! Yes! Harder. Fuck my ass." His legs began to buckle. "Eat my cum, boy. Taste it. Swallow my fucking load." His muscles clamped onto my finger. He flooded my mouth with his thick cum. It gushed down my throat and spilled out the corners of my mouth. My body tightened. My hand seized my cock. I pumped it wildly. As his cum dripped down my chin I moaned loudly. My legs muscles tightened.

"Come on, boy. Cum for me. Cum for me," he commanded. My load exploded from my cock, high into the air, splashing across my jaw and chest. Salvo after salvo erupted from my throbbing shaft. I was soaked in cum.

"That’s it, man. Hot, fucking cum," said the figure looming over me, with an evil grin on his face. I collapsed backward on the couch as he shoved his cock back into his pants. He wiped his hand across his forehead where sweat had beaded.

My chest rose and fell. I could hear the blood surging in my head. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. My cock had grown hard as my thoughts had run wild. The sound of the front door closing brought me back to the real world. I pulled my shirt out of my jeans to cover my hardon.

•

"Hey, dad," I said, hoping he’d respond civilly.

"Hi, son," he said wearily. He looked tired.

"What’s wrong? Everything okay?" I asked.

"It was just a long day. Too many things to think about. How are you doing?" Everything seemed to be normal for a change.

"Fine. Made the cut for the intramural soccer team."

"That’s great. Congratulations." He smiled, slapping me on the shoulder. I grinned, pleased that we were on speaking terms again.

"Okay, why don’t you fix dinner and I’ll take a shower? Okay, buddy?" I went to the kitchen to see what there was to fix. There was a pack of pork chops in the freezer. I unwrapped the paper. They were frozen together. A knife, I needed a knife. Holding the chops in my hand I stuck the blade between the pieces. Suddenly, the meat shifted and the metal blade grazed the tip of my middle finger. I held it wrapped in my t-shirt.

"Damn!" I yelled, breathing in deeply and holding it, waiting to see how much blood there would be. There wasn’t much — it hurt more than it was actually injured. A few drops of blood stained my shirt. I needed a bandage. As I went upstairs, I took off my shirt. I needed to soak it before the stain set. Dad was in the shower. The bathroom door was open a crack.

"Hey, can I come in? I cut my finger. I gotta get a Band-Aid."

"Yeah, come on in," he yelled over the sound of the pounding water. The bandages were in the medicine chest. Before opening it, I looked in the mirror. Dad’s body was reflected there, blurred by the opaque shower doors. The distinct outline of his hard body made my cock hard. His arm moved round and round, lathering his body. He was soaping his cock. His hands moved vigorously over his crotch. The sounds of the water splashing over his body made my mind wander. I could hear him spitting the remaining beads off of his lips as turned off the faucet.

I ran my shirt under the cold water from the tap and threw it in the clothes basket. I was fumbling with the wrapping of the bandage when the shower door slid open. He reached, with wet, dark hair clinging against his big forearm, for a towel. There was none there.

"Heath, you still there? Grab me a towel, would ya?"

I handed him a towel from the closet. He stood before me naked. I tried not to look.

"Thanks, son," he smiled. He wiped the water from his eyes. I sneaked a look at his body. He looked good wet, his hair darker than normal. The water trickled down his skin. We did have the same dick, but Dad was uncut. And it looked bigger than mine. In fact, it looked a little hard, not a lot, just a little. Mine did the same when I washed my cock. The feeling of my hands soaping it up, jerking on it, made it plump up a little. My cock couldn’t be any harder than it was. Suddenly I realized I didn’t have my shirt on to conceal the bulge in my jeans.

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