My Dad and I Celebrate Father's Day

Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of incest or incest content. It's part of a series.

Since my dad and I gave in to our urges just for fun, the tension between us has been cleared. Well, it's been replaced with a new tension. Less awkward and more exciting. When we're in the same room together, we talk about our days or laugh about one of his typical dad jokes. We have dinner with my mom and talk and live our lives.

University is demanding but we just had exams so I can breathe a little bit. I've been seeing Matteo a couple of times a week and I'm really into him. He is caring, funny and is very curious about my ideas and plans. I really see this going somewhere. Sex is fun and gentle. I feel so loved when I'm in bed with Matteo. But there's no place like home. My dad takes me the way nobody can regularly now when my mom isn't home.

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I slept over at Matteo's place and come back late in the morning on this sunday. My mom and dad are in the kitchen having elaborate brunch. O shit, it's Father's Day. I haven't really acknowledged this day since childhood, but it feels like I'm intruding. They both smile at me.

"Ben! Come sit down and eat with us!"

"Your mom overdid it again. We have way too much!"

I sit at the table and eat some of the delicious scrambled eggs with fresh bread and drink some green tea. What a life.

When we're finished we clear the table. My mom grabs her book and says she is going to read in the garden. My dad fixes his eyes on me and says he is going to take a nice, long bath. He winks at me. It's time for my Father's Day gift.

When I walk past the bathroom door a hand grabs my arm and pulls me in. Dad quickly closes the door, locks it and presses me against it. His warm, hairy and naked body almost crushes me and I feel his hard dick between us. He grabs my jaw and presses his lips on mine, opening them to push his tongue in with greed. I grab his back trying to pull him closer to me, my nails scratch his back and he groans with impatience.

"No fucking, dad. We make too much noise when we do."

"I know how I can keep you quiet."

With his hands on my shoulders he pushes me down. On my way I kiss his chest, belly button and pelvis. Salty. Somebody went on a morning run. When I'm on my knees he holds my head on both sides and rubs his juicy mushroom head on my lips. Precum sticks on my lips like lip gloss. I open them a little bit and he immediately tries to put the tip in. I'm teasing him, not opening my teeth.

"Come on, Ben. Stop fucking around. We don't have forever."

I agree and open up. Right away his slick dick reaches the back of my mouth. My throat is trained well enough by now to not make me gag anymore. Doing what it's made to do, it relaxes and my dad slides in a bit deeper. I love it when he hasn't showered after his run. The smell of his sweat mixes with that indefinable odor of randiness.

With the back of my head against the door and hold in place by his hands, I have to give all control to dad. He goes slow, inch by inch his dick slides down my throat. In my imagination it touches my sternum. Then my nose is buried in his bush and his balls hang against my chin. Still not satisfied he grinds a bit more into my face, reaching just a bit further.

Slowly he slides out of me and my throat feels empty when his cockhead is back in my mouth. Thankfully he slides it right back in place. He goes slowly a couple of times, but I know he will need to speed up soon. I put my hands on his thick thighs to brace myself, but to my surprise he comes completely out of me. When I look up to ask what's wrong, his face is right in front of mine and he spits a thick blob of saliva in my open mouth. He sticks a two fingers in my mouth as to inspect whether my mouth - his hole to use - is lubed up and ready.

He grins and guides his dick back in my mouth and throat. Here we go. One hand grabs my hair and with the other he leans against the door, tilting forward and mounting his weight on his dick into my mouth. I see his lower abdomen driving into me right in front of me. He isn't taking it easy anymore and after a dozen or so thrusts I see him breaking a sweat. His belly and pubic hair stick to his glistening skin and every time I reach the base of his dick I get a salty little treat. I look up and see the resolute look on his face. Sweat dangles from his forehead, sometimes dripping down on my face. He is in the zone.

I am still fully dressed and haven't even thought about touching myself. When I start grabbing myself through my jeans, I hear my dad starts to pant. I know what that means. With even more force, I feel his hard dick sliding in and out of my servicing throat. One last thrust and he collapse against the door, onto my face. I can barely breath with my nose pressed against his groin. His dick pulses and I feel his balls contracting against my chin. He drops load after load deep in me. It's right then when I hear footsteps on the hallway. They stop right behind me on the other side of the door.

"John, can you hand me my hairbrush?"

Shit. Mom. My dad moves back but leaves his restless dick in me. He gestures for me to keep quiet. How could I even make a sound?

"Almost done, Kate. I'll bring it down with me." He sounds so normal.

"Ehmm.. Well, alright." I hear her turning on her heels and walking to the stairs.

My dad's dick is softening in my mouth and throat. He looks at me and silently chuckles. I know what he means. That was close. When we hear the kitchen door close, he takes his dick - now fully flaccid and slick with cum and salive - out of me. Adrenaline is pumping trough my body. The idea of my mom finding out what we did here is upsetting. At the same time I'm overjoyed about this quick session. I image his thick load deep in my stomach. I press my face against his dick, rubbing it softly against my lips and cheeks. So powerful just moments ago, skullfucking me into oblivion. Now soft and vulnerable.

"Let me clean it." I whisper and take his cock back in my mouth.

"Make it quick."

My dad puts his hands on his hips and watches me sucking him. When I don't taste anything but my own spit I let him go.

"Thanks son, best Father's Day gift ever."

"Better than the ashtray I made out of clay in third grade?"

"I don't smoke," He laughs, "but I could get addicted to this."

He turns around and runs the bath. I sneak out as silently as I can.