Cuced by My Dad

Note: This chapter contains scenes of incest content. Enjoy!

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The only thing worse than a wedding is a family wedding. I already don't give much of a shit about holy matrimony--throw in extended family members, and I lose interest altogether.

You would think I, Leo Wyte, would be bored shitless at the prospect of my cousin Larson's impending nuptials. Normally, you would be right. Now, however, I was looking for any excuse to avoid thinking about the Very Uncomfortable Thing That Happened Last Weekend.

It started like any other: I thought I might finally get my pussy fucked; my dad swooped in and pounded the guy before I even had a chance; insert emotional breakdown here.

Only this time, I didn't just jerk myself in the corner and call it a day.

No, much as I was loath to admit, I actually loved every minute of it. My father's sweaty, naked body; the sound of his grunts, heaves, and moans; the smell (and taste) of his cum...

Fuck. I told myself I would stop doing this! I had been reliving that scene in my head again and again for days now. I couldn't actually be attracted to my father, could I? That would be sick. I may have little to no morals, but even I knew that father-son incest was less than ideal.

Yet even now, as I packed my bag for my cousin's wedding, my dick betrayed me. I just needed some space, a distraction--something to get my head on straight. And what better distraction than a weekend away with my extended family, where I could remind myself that there were other men in the world besides my dad?

At least, that was the plan.

The wedding was in Alabama at some vineyard outside of Birmingham that my uncle Jeremiah owned. My parents and I were flying in the day before the rehearsal dinner, and even though the three of us were sharing a hotel room, I was hoping Mom might act as a bit of a buffer between me and Dad.

"I can't wait to meet Larson's fiancé," Mom gushed as we stood in line at airport security. "I follow her on Facebook, and she's always posting the most gorgeous photos of her meals."

She pulled out her license and handed it to the TSA agent behind the desk. "I'm not really sure what it is she does for work, but she certainly travels a lot. Just last week, she was in Tallahassee!"

"How long's it been since you've seen your cousin?" Dad asked me. "Three years?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

The TSA agent set my mother's license down, then pulled out his radio and said something I couldn't hear. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, getting to his feet. "I'm gonna need you to step to the side."

Mom looked back at us, startled.

"What exactly is the issue?" My dad said, but a second TSA agent approached.

"Is this her?"

Mom sighed. "Did I forget to take my nail clippers out of my purse again?"

A third TSA agent approached, this one with a pair of zip ties in hand. "Ma'am, we need you to come with us."

Dad stepped in between her and the agents. "What the hell is going on?"

One of the agents looked at my mother and said, "Ma'am, are you aware that you're on the Do Not Fly List?"

We stood there in silence for a moment. Then, my father and I spoke at once:

"Mom's a CRIMINAL?"

"You put my wife on a TERRORIST watchlist?"

Mom put her hands up to stop us. "Oh, I was afraid of this." She turned to the agent.

"I thought that expired years ago?"

The agent frowned. "There's no expiration for assaulting a flight attendant."

She put her hand on her hip and huffed. "Well, she was a bitch."

Dad stepped forward. "We're supposed to be at a wedding on Saturday."

The agent shook his head. "She's not getting on any flight any time soon."

I threw my hands up. "Looks like we're going home. Sorry, Larson!"

"Oh, stop it." Mom waved away the zip ties. "You don't need those, I'm leaving." She turned to us. "You two should still go. I'll be fine at home, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Dad frowned. "Maybe you could drive up--"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You know I'm narcoleptic when I drive." She sighed. "No, it'll be good to have the weekend to myself. Plus, you boys can do a little bonding. 'No girls allowed' and all."

I felt a knot in my stomach. The whole weekend in a hotel room alone with my father? This was NOT part of the plan. But as we said goodbye to Mom and continued through security, I couldn't think of a way out of it. I would just have to be strong and resist the temptation to think about fucking my dad.

__________

"What do you mean there's only one bed?!"

The little gay man behind the front desk looked startled at my hysteria. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered. "There was a mix-up with your room. But it's a King-sized bed, so there should be more than enough room--"

"We'll be fine." Dad gave me a stern look. "There's no need to make a scene."

"But..." I wanted to protest, but I couldn't actually think of a reasonable excuse for why I was so opposed to sharing a bed with my father. I was afraid of being turned on by his masculine energy and his big hairy cock? That wouldn't fly. So I kept my mouth shut and followed Dad to the elevator, pushing our bags on one of those little wheeled dollies.

"It'll be good for you to see your cousin again," my Dad said once we were alone in the elevator. "You guys spent a lot of time together when you were younger. Remember when we went white water rafting in West Virginia?"

I frowned. "Yeah, I really loved getting shoved into the river."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember that. I thought Larson was always nice to you."

"He was. That was Uncle Jeremiah."

Dad nodded. "Right. I can see that. My brother's always been... Well, he has a funny sense of humor. Gets that from our father."

I snorted. As I remembered it, Uncle Jeremiah's sense of humor was usually at the expense of someone else. He was loud and boastful, usually needing to be in control. Come to think of it, an awful lot like someone else I knew...

When we got to the room, I climbed straight into bed while Dad hopped in the shower. It really was a large enough bed that I probably wouldn't have to worry about rolling up against Dad in my sleep. But as I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, I couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend would not be the distraction from Dad I was looking for.

I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the sound of the water stop. I knew I should roll over and close my eyes, but instead, I found myself peeking at the bathroom door out of the corner of my eye. After a few seconds, it opened, releasing a bunch of steam into the room.

My father emerged, damp and naked except for a white towel stretched around his waist. His skin was ruddy from the heat of the shower, the hair on his torso standing up a little bit from him toweling off before. I kept my eyes half-closed, pretending to be asleep. He walked over to the other side of the bed, and I heard the sound of him unzipping his suitcase.

Then he stood and, in what seemed to be slow-motion, dropped the towel from around his waist.

For the second time in a week, I saw him naked from behind, his hairy ass cheeks looking even thicker and more muscular in this dim lighting. He had a pair of white briefs in his hands, and as he bent over to put them on, I saw his cheeks spread a little to show off the light coating of hair within.

My cock immediately began to grow hard. I slid my hand under the covers, hating myself for continuing to watch him pull on his underwear until he let go of the waistband with a loud SNAP. He lifted the covers, his hairy belly jiggling as he climbed inside. He rolled onto his side, but I could feel the warmth radiating off of him even from a foot away.

I don't know how long I laid there trying to ignore my painfully hard erection. All I know is that, all of a sudden, I felt a heavy weight on top of me.

My eyes fluttered open in surprise. "What... Dad?"

Dad covered me with his hefty frame, his hands holding my wrists to the bed. I could feel his massive bulge rubbing up against mine, his thick snake dwarfing my own. I felt helpless underneath him, my heart racing a mile a minute.

Suddenly, his warm lips were on my neck, the scratch of his mustache harsh against my skin as he nuzzled me.

"What are you doing?" I managed to choke out.

He just grunted, spreading my legs with a nudge of his meaty thighs. I moaned, my body splayed out on the bed as he began to thrust against me.

"Dad... Oh, God, daddy..."

His tongue was warm and wet on my skin as he kissed my neck, his hips rutting into mine, our cocks straining through our underwear.

"We... we shouldn't..." I whimpered, my body shaking with need.

He lifted his head to look at me, eyes wild. "Need to," he huffed.

Then his mouth was on mine. He kissed me so fiercely I almost squirted right then and there. I couldn't believe this was happening. More than that, I couldn't believe that I didn't care. I was so turned on, more than I'd ever been in my life. I needed to be filled, consumed, destroyed. It didn't matter that it was the man who made me who was doing it. All that mattered was the need, red-hot and pulsing.

He held me to the bed, my wrists clenched tightly in his hands, my legs trapped by his thighs. I was open to him, ready to be taken. My heart pounded as he reached down and yanked off his briefs, then my own. Soon, nothing was separating us. All that was left was for him to take his manhood, aim it at my wet, throbbing cunt, and slowly slip inside...

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

My eyes shot open. It was daylight, the sun streaming through the curtains. My cock was standing straight up, throbbing as the cum pulsed out of me. I could feel a warm wetness spreading in my underwear, and I let out a long, whiny moan as I soiled myself with jizz.

I came down from my orgasm with deep, heavy breaths. My vision was speckled with little pinpricks of light, my hands grasping the bed sheets as though I might fall right off the face of the earth.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. My dad stepped out, toothbrush in his mouth.

"Morning!" he said brightly. He nodded at my phone. "You gonna turn that off?"

I glanced over at my phone on the nightstand, my alarm beeping loudly. I grabbed it with frantic fingers, mashing the stop button. For a moment, I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Had we actually...?

Dad was staring at me with a raised eyebrow. "You all right, son? Did you have a nightmare or something?"

I looked down at my wet briefs, soaked through with cum. I threw the sheets off and raced past him into the bathroom, my hands covering my shame.

I hopped straight into the shower, underwear and all. I was shaking like a leaf as the warm water cascaded around me. What the hell was that dream? It had felt so real. My father's body on top of me, his mouth on mine... And I had cum! A fucking wet dream, the one night I'm sharing a bed with my dad. Not just any wet dream, either. The best, most erotic sex dream I'd ever had...

I slapped my cheek, forcing away the memory of sex with my father. Fuck, it wasn't a memory, because it never happened. It was only a fantasy. Except it wasn't that, either! Because I didn't actually want it to happen! I just... I just...

"Hey, son, we should get going soon," my dad called through the bathroom door. "I gotta grab a suit before the rehearsal dinner. Your uncle's hosting it at his place, and it's a bit of a drive."

I took a deep breath. I had to keep it together. I was going to be sharing a room with my father all weekend, I couldn't afford to be cumming in my sleep and fantasizing about his big dick. God forbid I said anything in my sleep! If he knew about these thoughts... Well, I didn't know what he'd do. Disown me, maybe. Or maybe he'd just think I was a fucking freak.

I cut my shower short to only a brief thirty minutes, reluctantly accompanying my dad to the nearest outlet mall as he tried on suits. He offered to pay for me to get something for the wedding, but I'd already packed a backless red silk jumpsuit that I was perfectly happy with. As for the rehearsal dinner, I decided a casual crop top/overall combo would be sufficiently classy.

We ended up arriving at Uncle Jeremiah's place just before sundown. I'd visited that side of the family a few times over the years at their old home in Birmingham but had never been to this new place. It was locked away in a gated community, forcing us to pass no less than two security guards until we arrived at Uncle Jeremiah's house.

Calling it a house was an understatement. It was more of a manor, although even that sounded kind of quaint. The place was enormous, at least three times the size of our house and encompassing about an acre of land beyond it. The driveway was at least half a mile, lined with animal-shaped topiaries and a giant fountain in the center. There were so many cars parked by the entrance that we ended up having to walk for ten minutes just to get to the front door. When we knocked, a little old woman in a maid's uniform opened the door and beckoned us in.

"Jesus, I don't remember Uncle Jeremiah being this loaded," I whispered to Dad as the woman led us through the foyer.

He shrugged. "That's what comes with being a high-powered lawyer."

"And why weren't you a lawyer, exactly?"

Dad stiffened. "Because I decided spending time with my family was more important."

I ran my finger along the marble walls. "Well, that was stupid. Family is overrated."

When I stepped into the living room, I immediately felt small. The ceilings stretched dizzyingly high, revealing open walkways on the upper floor. The south wall was lined with towering windows, letting in the golden-pink light from the sunset and revealing the expansive backyard. Clusters of guests lounged on deep leather sectionals and sculptural armchairs, balancing tiny plates of hors d'oeuvres and half-empty cocktail glasses. They must have rearranged the furniture for the occasion, as glass-topped cocktail tables sat peppered throughout the room. The air buzzed with laughter and murmured conversation.

The whole place smelled like money--aged wood, fine leather, and the faintest trace of something that I suspected Jeremiah had made the staff spritz into the air. I immediately headed for the buffet table and grabbed a plate.

"Leo, we should probably find your cousin and say hi," my dad said, but I was too busy grabbing as many canapés as I could.

A thick Southern drawl cut through the air. "Jud? Is that you?"

A woman with over-plucked brows and a wine glass in hand teetered toward my dad, wrapping him in a boozy hug.

"Good to see you, Linda."

She peeled herself off my dad and waved her hand dismissively. "Ugh, please excuse all this mess. We're renovating, and it's been a nightmare." She chuckled stupidly, like she'd been saying that line all evening. Her bleary eyes widened when she caught sight of me. "Leo! Oh gosh, isn't it just like you to wear a thing like that."

"Hi, Aunt Linda," I said, my mouth full of canapés. "The place looks great."

She smiled so wide her eyes shut. "I wouldn't expect you to know the difference, dear. Jeremiah's just in the other room, fraternizing with the boys from work, you know. I'll go grab him for you--"

"It's all right, Linda," Dad said curtly. "I don't want to bother him. Where's Larson?"

Linda swayed slightly on her heels, taking another long sip of wine. "Somewhere around here," she muttered, already distracted. "He's with that girl. She's something else."

She wandered away, at which point my dad put his hand on my lower back and said, "Come on, let's go find him and say hello."

I felt a shiver run up my spine. I let my dad guide me through the room, trying to ignore the goosebumps crawling across my skin. I remembered my dream, the feeling of him on top of me, the heaviness of his body, the forcefulness of how he spread me open...

Jesus Fucking Christ. Snap out of it!!!

When we found Larson, he was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of cognac in one hand and the other in the hand of a blonde woman wearing an enormous amount of makeup. I almost did a double-take when I saw him--last time we hung out, he was awkward and lanky, sporting a wispy mustache and an unflattering bowl cut. Now, he looked... well, hot.

His dark hair was short but messy, his jawline razor-sharp and clean-shaven except for a thick, furry mustache that had finally filled out. He wore a fitted suit that showed off his body. I guess he'd started working out since I'd last seen him. I wondered what else had changed.

I was so busy staring at my newly-hot cousin that it took me a moment to notice the woman hanging onto him like a parasite. His fiancée, I assume, was a platinum blonde Southern Belle who looked like she'd just stepped off the set of a right-wing news program. She held his hand in a tight, leash-like grip, flashing a set of gleaming white teeth like a weapon.

He was in conversation with a couple of tech bro-looking guys, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide.

"Leo? Holy shit, man. It's been forever. How's it going?"

He wrestled his hand out of the blonde woman's grip and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly while giving me that pat on the back that straight guys do.

"Sure has," I said, pulling back. "You look... different."

He laughed. "You too, dude. You're, uh..." He gave me a once-over as if trying to find the right words.

"Gay," I said helpfully.

"Yeah, that," he said with a smirk.

He turned to my dad and beamed. "Uncle Jud, good to see you. I'm glad you guys could make it out."

The blonde woman cleared her throat. Larson turned to her. "Oh, this is--"

"I'm Caroline. Larson's wife." She extended a perfectly manicured hand to my father, ignoring me entirely.

Dad shook her hand and gave a raucous laugh. "Did we miss the wedding?"

She gave a fake smile that seemed vaguely threatening. "Can't blame me for getting a little excited to be Mrs. Larson Wyte. Right, babe?"

She squeezed Larson's hand and smiled at him, then turned back so fast her hair nearly knocked Larson's drink out of his hand. "We're so happy to have you two here. Please, help yourself to the food and drinks, whatever you want." She put her hand to her heart. "Larson's family is my family."

Before I could extract myself from whatever this was, a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.

"Well, well, if it isn't my little brother."

I turned and, for the first time in years, came face to face with my Uncle Jeremiah.

He looked like a slightly older, more refined version of my dad. Taller, broader, and muscular but without the bulk of a dad bod weighing him down. He had grown a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard and was sporting his usual shaved head, which made him look... I don't know, commanding, I guess? His smile was friendly, but his eyes carried that sense that some part of the joke was on you.

Dad stood up straight beside me. "Jeremiah."

"Come here, man. Bring it in!" My uncle pulled Dad in for a hug, then clapped him on the stomach. "Still carrying that extra weight, huh? Ah, I'm just razzing you, little brother. Lighten up!"

My uncle's eyes turned to meet mine. "And this must be Leo," he said, looking me up and down like I was for sale. "Last time I saw you, you were a little boy running around terrorizing birds in my backyard. Now look at you."

I blushed. "Yeah, uh, I grew up."

His gaze lingered for a beat too long, his smirk widening. "I'll say."

I felt my pussy flutter out of nowhere. Was my uncle... flirting with me? No, I was probably just imagining it.

My dad cleared his throat. "We were just catching up with Larson."

Jeremiah put his hand on my cousin's shoulder and shook him a little too forcefully. "Isn't he something? Graduated top of his class at Dartmouth, nabbed a sweet little internship with a VC firm, not to mention this sweet little piece of sunshine." He winked at Caroline, who giggled uncomfortably.