Training My Successor

My head bobs gently, coating his hard member in my mouth with saliva. I take my time and go slow, just the way he likes it. I make sure to go deep every few glides to vary the pace. My mind is constantly filled with these thoughts about how I can best please my man, my son.

I am naked, wearing nothing but a pink thong he picked out for me this morning. My knees and back hurt from being hunching over to give him a blowjob under his desk while he worked, but I know my duties as his manwife.

"That's great, just make sure you let the guys know." I hear Oscar leading his team on his business call.

My heart swells with pride to watch, or in this case, listen, to him working. I am so proud of him, and it excites me to see him taking charge in the office. I make sure to give him an extra deep throat to show him my eagerness.

He reaches under the desk to give me a few gentle slaps on my face. He does it often to show his dominance. He also knows how much it turns me on. I'm sure he can feel me smiling on his pulsing cock.

"Alright, let me know when everything's done. Chat soon." He says, hanging up the call. He presses his feet and pushes his chair back. He smirks at me knowingly, and I can't help but blush like a slut who's been caught being naughty.

"How's my daddy-wife doing?" He asks, curling his finger to bid me forward. I crawl slowly and seductively out from under the table.

"I'm alright, just enjoying my husband's big cock!" I gush. I straddle myself on his lap, balancing on the big chair. I knew the chair could handle our combined weight- after all this used to be my chair. I used to run this company and this used to be my office, before I gave control of the company all to my son, along with my pussy.

"Good girl." He moans as I rub my thonged pussy on his big member. We're both similarly sized, but it turns us both on for me to pretend like he's bigger than me. He's the man of this relationship, after all.

"Will my wife present her beautiful pussy on my table?" He coos into my ear lustfully.

"For my husband, anything." I blush. Even after all this time, I still feel shy submitting my masculine body to my husband. I slowly drape myself off his strong legs, and bend myself over the powerful oak desk. I lift a leg and rest it against the cool wood, presenting my inviting pussy.

"It's all yours." I moan, surrendering it to his advances. "This pussy belongs to my husband."

With a finger, he pushes the flimsy pink material to the side, and penetrates it into my warm, inviting hole. It glides against my pre-lubed pussy, making me involuntarily moan loudly.

"D-daddy!" I flush a bright red from the penetration.

"You're so wet for me, baby." He teases, rubbing my prostate with two fingers now. I look back with a soft gaze, submitting to his advances and penetration.

"I'm always wet for you. I need to always be ready to accept my husband's big cock in me, at any time. That's my duty as your manwife." I purr, thinking about the deviant vows we made to each other.

"You always know how to turn your man on." He smirks, withdrawing his finger. He steps forward and rubs his hard cock against my hole. I know what he wants me to do.

"Give it to me, daddy!" I beg lewdly. "Please fuck your slut."

In a swift motion, my son plunges his cock straight into me with a single stroke, earning a loud moan from me. Like a man, he takes what he wants, sinking his full hard member into my welcoming hole, pressing his bushy pubes against my hairless, waxed pussy.

"Yes! I legally own my daddywife's pussy!" He roars, claiming me again like the man I raised him to be.

As he pumps into my pussy, chasing his pleasure, I watch myself getting fucked in the large mirror across the room. My muscles flex and respond to every thrust my son fucks into my soft hole. Most people would consider me a muscle DILF- but my son loves to tease me and call me a MILF. If it wasn't so hot, it'd be comical how I, with my solid built frame and a skimpy pink thong, am bending over for my son, dressed in an expensive black suit. I feel naked and vulnerable, but this feels so right.

This used to be my office. The company my son runs used to belong to me. Now, my son has taken over the company, our home and our bed. I've been relegated from boss to bitch. I used to run board meetings and meet important clients, now my duties involve pleasing my man as his personal slut, and I fucking love it.

-

Oscar was 21 when his mother died. He had just started his penultimate year of university and he took Amelia's death hard. My son moved back home to be closer to family and drove to his college, it just felt right to have him back. My wife took care of us both. I ran a successful business, and Amelia was in charge of everything at home to ensure Oscar and I would start each day right. When she passed, I took it upon myself to care for him and to take on both roles.

It started with the usual chores she did, like the laundry and the cooking. My son quickly caught on with what I was doing for him, and was really appreciative.

"Thanks, dad! Dinner's delicious!" He would say. His encouragement made me try harder for him. I grew to love the house making role. It made me so proud to send my little man out to the world, knowing I did everything I could to give him the best day possible. I took time to do better for my son. I would cook him more intricate meals, learn to get those pesky wrinkles off his shirts.

For my birthday, he gave me a pink apron that said "world's best wife". It was an inside joke we had that I was basically his wife now, which would always make me blush. I guess I was taking on traditionally feminine roles.

On his birthday, we had a small celebration with close friends and family. When the celebrations died down, we had our first beer together.

"You're a man now, Oscar." I smiled, cracking the seal off his can for him. "Share a beer with your old man."

"Thanks, dad."

"Have you given a thought about what you wanted to do when you're done with college?"

"I'd like to take over your business, dad. I know you always wanted me to, and I think it's time for me to start being my own man."

I was taken back by his confidence and forcefulness, but filled with a second emotion I couldn't just place. My son must have seen my reaction, cause he changed his tone quickly. "I mean, one day, dad. I still need to be shown the ropes first."

"It's not that, Oscar, I'm just so proud of you." We shared a tender moment before he went to his room, leaving me to clean up the party on my own. At this point, it was standard for me to do the cooking and cleaning on my own. I enjoyed it, it made me feel like I was making a good homely environment for my son.

I sent a few emails off to get my son a part time job at my company. I might as well get him started sooner rather than later, I thought. I was walking to my room to turn in for the night when I heard my son calling for me. Again, it had become pretty commonplace for my son to shout for me from his room whenever he needed anything, like a glass of water. His door was left ajar, and before I could open it, I heard him calling again.

"Fuck yeah, dad, spread those fucking cheeks." I was shocked as I peeked into his room. With his back turned against the door, my son was jerking off to porn. My face flushed with embarrassment, ashamed for invading my son's privacy. I started to leave, but couldn't help but look at his screen to see what he was watching. It was a video of a younger guy fucking an older muscular stud; and he looked an awful lot like me.

I wasn't surprised that my son was gay. He had came out to me in the past, and I supported him by revealing I was bisexual. What shocked me was that my son was obviously jerking off to the idea of his dad bending over for him. I walked away quickly and as quietly as I could. I wasn't sure what to think of this.

That night, I dreamt of my son. He had taken over my role in the office, and looked so smart and handsome in his suit. He shook the hands of the long-time clients I used to work with, went golfing and had drinks with them. I stayed at home, cooked his favourite meals and ironed his clothes like I usually do. Except this time, I did it wearing a skimpy little thong Oscar picked out. While he ate, I serviced him under the table, taking in his musk from a hard day's work.

We retired to my master bedroom, now ours. He fucked me sensually in missionary as I moaned softly into his ear. We flipped over and he continued thrusting, this time with me on all fours. He leaned on my back and cupped my large pecs like a woman's tits. I looked down and saw my bare chest. My chest hair, what was once my source of pride, was shaved bare to reveal two strong, yet soft and plump pecs.

The literal and metaphorical emasculation was too much, and I came handsfree, making a mess on the sheets, while my son unloaded his potent load into my hole- his pussy. He collapsed on the bed beside me while I held my position on all fours. Careful not to spill a drop of his precious seed, I crawled forward and did my wifely duty as I licked my son's cock clean. I savoured the taste of his cum and my pussy juices, mixed into a delicious concoction of depravity.

Without saying a word, he nonchalantly points to the mess I made with my ejaculation while catching his breath. I apologised to my son shyly, and started licking my cum off the sheets. Satisfied with my cleaning, he pulled me in towards him. He reached over to his bedside table, and took my pink butt plug. As he pressed it into me, a moan escaped my lips.

"Good girl, let's keep my seed in you." He cooed. We kissed softly and passionately, and I had never felt so safe in his arms.

I woke up the next morning with cum dripping down my pyjama pants, having just had my first wet dream since I was a teen. Examining the mess I made, ropes of white rubbed into my pubes, a plan was brewing in my head.

As I cleaned up in the shower, I shaved my chest hair for the first time in my life. I got rid of every hair below my neck, and observed my new body in the mirror. My body glistened in the bathroom light, still wet from the shower. Without all that hair, I looked more muscular, but more vulnerable at the same time. It softened me, which turned me on. All my life, I wanted to be harder, more masculine, more aggressive at work. I welcomed this change, and couldn't wait to see where this took me. The plan was on.