His Fathers Genes Ch 03

The knock on the door at four thirty in the afternoon was insistent, the sort of knock a husband would make on the door of his wife's lover. As far as Brent knew, none of the women he'd slept with lately had been married. Certainly, none had a ring, and most of them had been "dragon-only" - girls he'd picked up at the club where dragons mingled with the human women who craved them.

Brent put aside the Linear Algebra textbook he'd been reading and walked to a side window. Sure, he could turn into a very large, scale-armored dragon, but that was only useful some of the time, and certainly wasn't something he wanted to do indoors. He wasn't sure what a bullet would do to his human form. It seemed likely that it would have the same effect as a bullet did on a regular human. So it seemed wise to be cautious.

The man on the stoop was dressed in a long beige trench coat, over jeans and a button-down shirt. He wore a large gray fedora. Just like an angry husband from a Mickey Spillane novel, but Brent recognized him. He wasn't anyone's husband.

He opened the door. "Hi, Gardner. What do you want?"

"What, no 'Dad?'" the man said, his amused tone indicating that he didn't expect a warmer welcome. "I'm crushed. Mind if I come in?"

Brent stood back. "You paid for this place, make yourself at home," he said. And feeling a little chagrined at himself for not being more courteous, he added, "and by the way, thank you for all of this."

Gardner smiled as he stepped in and looked around. "No worries. Being angry at me is habit, isn't it? Place is a bit bare, but you're starting to live in it, looks like. That desk was your mum's, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so." He tossed the hat on a hook and clomped over to the desk. Brent, shoeless, was conscious of Gardner's heavy shoes on the hardwood floors, but he said nothing. Gardner peered at the textbook for a bit. "Saw Leibniz give a talk once," he said. "On philosophy, not math. Ridiculous wig the man wore."

"You saw Leibniz, and your takeaway was his wig?" Brent said.

"Well, you should have seen the wig," Gardner said. "Anyway, I'm impressed you have time and patience for all this. I've been hearing you've been busy."

"I'm not going to just laze around all day," Brent said.

"Ha. There's a difference between lazing around and spending the day in bed, though, isn't there? Especially when one has company."

"We're not discussing my love life."

"Um, actually, we are. Alice says she thinks you're getting attached."

Alice. Yes, he was getting attached. He had sex with other women, of course. They seemed to practically throw themselves at him at the club, and Alice didn't mind. In fact, she actually encouraged him. He flashed back to the night before, with Alice pushing on a busty blonde's head - Tiffany? - and looking into his eyes as she told him, "Fuck her mouth, Brent. Come down the little slut's throat."

Tiffany swallowed, as Alice gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Who wouldn't get attached to a woman like that? On top of that, Alice was smart, and unlike most of the other women at the club, knew his secret. Sure, every woman there knew that the men were "Dragons" but they thought it was something akin to being a member of a motorcycle gang. Alice knew better, and as a result, could give him advice. Thanks to Alice, he was keeping up with his studies by day, even if he was pursuing the pleasures of the flesh by night.

It seemed strange that a few months ago he'd been a virgin, and now he wasn't even sure how to count the number of women he'd fucked. It depended, of course, on what counted as fucking, exactly.

Brent shrugged. "I'm not like you," he said, heading for the kitchen. He wanted something to drink, even though alcohol didn't have much effect on him.

Gardner, unwanted, followed him. "No, you're younger and stupider."

"Thanks. Love you too, Dad."

"Younger and stupider. I was being redundant. I only want what's best for you."

Brent nodded. "Thanks. But I got this. I understand that I will keep living, and Alice will grow old and die. I know that makes things difficult, if not impossible. But I don't want to be the kind of person who lives life with a heart of stone."

"Then have a heart. That process isn't just difficult for you. Think of her. Oh, you can make her fall in love with you, if she hasn't already. Making humans fall in love with you is trivially easy, anyway. Most of 'em start out in lust with you, and that's halfway there. When they fuck they produce hormones that make them think they're in love. It's the way humans are. But she'll get old, and you'll still be young - and you'll still have young women throwing themselves at you. You'll keep fucking her, but at some point you'll be thinking how much nicer it would be to be fucking some young thing. And she'll know, Brent."

"Alice doesn't mind sharing. She likes it. Why, just last night -"

"Yes, I know. I watched."

"You watched?"

"Yeah. You used the girl while you stared at Alice with little puppy dog eyes. I bet you don't even know the girl's name."

"Tiffany."

"It's Trudy. And you suggest that

I

have a heart of stone?"

"You had no right to watch."

"I remember when a 'right' was something a noble had, and anyone else didn't. I'm a member of the club, and I can come and go as I choose. You fucked the girl's mouth on the couch in full view of everyone. The fact that you were too busy staring into Alice's eyes to notice me is beside the point."

Brent glared at his father, and then grabbed a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of coke from the fridge. It was good to have something to do with his hands. "Want something to drink?" he asked.

"Got any whiskey?"

"No."

"Beer?"

"Yeah."

Once the drinks were sorted, Brent took a deep breath. He had really been that callous, hadn't he? Not even remembering Trudy's name, treating her like an object while focusing on Alice. Of course, some people liked being objectified, and Trudy had thanked him for his cum afterward. But he didn't know that was what Trudy wanted. Maybe the blonde had gone away feeling empty and used. If she hadn't, it certainly wasn't anything he'd done.

Gardner sat on one of the stools next to the island in the kitchen, sipping his beer from a heavy glass mug that Brent had gotten from the zoo.

"Alice has been helpful," Brent said. "Showing me around. Teaching me, encouraging me. You know, the things -"

"The things I should be doing? I should be teaching you how to fuck blondes and the rest? I don't think you'd like me getting that involved. And yes, I could teach you how to fly, and the like, except these days it's best not to be spotted, and there is radar and all sorts of stuff. Half the UFOs the government has on file are dragons. There's no sense in adding more."

"Why do they look like flying saucers, then?"

"Most of 'em don't. But we have friends in good places, Brent. It's hard to erase a whole spotting, but not too hard to adjust a photograph a bit. Anyway, best not to fly if you don't have to. And yeah, the rest, Alice can teach you. Nothing wrong with having a teacher."

"Then what is the issue?"

"Generally speaking, teachers don't fuck their students, Brett. There might be a reason for that."

"Because the teacher has all the power. But it's me who has the power."

Gardner nodded. "It isn't just power, Brett. It's about conflict of interest. You're young, you'll learn. A dad can't help wanting things to go smoothly, but some things you may have to learn the hard way."

The burly man outside the iron door Brent approached later that evening was no one anyone would want to mess with. If he had a bit of extra fat, he had a whole lot of extra muscle, and he towered over Brent, who himself was over six feet.

"Sir," he said, although he looked to be twenty years older than Brent. It was hard to imagine that such a giant would be afraid of anyone, but he moved out of Brent's way with obsequious alacrity.

"James," Brent said. "Good to see you."

The giant relaxed slightly. "Good to see you, sir," he said.

"Just Brent would be fine."

"Yes, sir."

Brent gave up and went inside.

A woman, naked, softly lit by lamps, spun on a pole on one side of the room. She had a long tattoo of a dragon along her side; a smaller, more stylized dragon, on her sternum. The light lit the top of her breasts and made deep shadows of the undersides; it lit the curve of her buttocks while shrouding the cleft between her legs in temporary mystery. Very temporary, as it turned out, because she flipped herself, spreading her legs and baring all.

It was a typical night in the club, which had no official name but which was sometimes jokingly referred to as the Red Dragon Inn, after a board game. A woman, naked except for garter belt and stockings, rode a man on the couch, her moans audible over the soft classical music that filled the place. A half dozen women, in clubwear or various states of undress, lounged around, their heads turning at Brent's entrance. Each one of them smiled a greeting, and most of them arched their backs or crossed their legs. One licked her lips.

The club had two kinds of patrons; dragons, and women who were eager to serve them. The dragons were in human form, of course. It was doubtful that Brent's full reptilian flying form would fit in such a small space, and he was the youngest of dragons and the club's newest male member. The other dragons were probably even larger.

A few weeks ago, Brent's attention could have been drawn to any of the women in the club. But now he ignored all that.

In the middle of the room, a woman squatted in high heels, with a man's cock in her mouth. She gazed up at him, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. He was a big man, like Brent, with a darker complexion and a craggier face. The woman had long brown hair and round, perky breasts, a thin waist and a big ass. She had a small dragon tattoo on her neck, exactly like the one the dancer had on her chest.

Her hands were on the man's naked ass, and she used it for leverage and balance as she pulled her lips onto the large thick shaft and then back, up and down, back and forth, a bit of drool trailing from her lips to land on the man's dark black boots.

"You fucking love it, don't you, slut."

She managed to nod and give head at the same time, her gaze never moving from the man's face.

Brent stopped and stared.

The woman was Alice, and against his father's advice, and her advice, he had been falling in love with her.

His stomach felt like it was lurching toward his chest. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He wanted to grab her, claim her. He wanted to punch the man in the middle of the room, which given that the man was a dragon older than he, possibly by hundreds of years, might be a very bad idea indeed. And at the same time, his own desire for sudden violence disgusted him. That was not who he, Brent, was. He was a human first, a dragon second. And while a human did not take lightly the sight of the woman he loved blowing another man, he had never told her to be exclusive. Hell, he was anything but exclusive. She was doing nothing wrong, just something he didn't like and didn't want.

So he clenched his fists, and just stood there, watching. He wondered if people could see him watching, and guess what he was thinking and feeling from the tenseness of his body. The notion that all the girls were available to all the dragons was part of what kept the peace in the little club and was much of the attraction. To be possessive in the way he wanted to be possessive would violate that peace, and perhaps even by simply standing he was making a scene.

"Brent," said a familiar voice beside him.

He hadn't even noticed the woman approach, but she was striking. Her long red hair was like fire, and she had deep green eyes. She was slender and wore only a shelf bra that left her nipples exposed, tiny black panties, and heels. The sinuous form of a dragon, its scales red near its head and blending to green towards its tail, wound up her right leg.

"Chloe," he said, glancing at her, and then back at Alice.

Chloe took his chin and forcibly turned it so that he would look at her. "Pardon my impudence, Sir" she said. "Of course you can punish me if you wish."

He looked her up and down. Her breasts were by no means huge, but they defied gravity delightfully, causing her nipples to point perkily toward his shoulders. He remembered her saying, once, "All her holes, all our holes, are available for your use." He reached out and cupped her breasts, and she did not flinch back, but arched her back to press the hard nipples into his palms. They were firm and yet yielding.

"Thank you, Sir," she said.

"For?"

"For groping me, of course."

"You're welcome." He let go, dropping his hands to his side.

"I think I know what you need. May I, briefly, lead? You may take control at any time, of course."

He nodded. She took hold of his hand, and walked across the bar, straight through the middle. Chloe wiggled her ass as she walked, her sway almost causing her hip to touch Alice's bobbing head as they passed.

Brent managed to pass them without a word. Chloe's path had no doubt been intentional. She had seen him stare, and now she was doing her best to make sure Alice saw her with Brent. As if to confirm his suspicion, she curved and stopped at a spot that was just a little bit off of a direct line from Alice's face, and that little bit off only meant that the dragon Alice was blowing was not in the way of Alice seeing Chloe.

Chloe went to her knees, and unbuckled Brent's belt. The angle would ensure that Alice would have a perfect, side on view of his cock when she freed it, as she quickly did. Brent always went commando to the club; it saved time and hassle. Chloe popped his cock in her mouth and started sucking.

Brent judged that he would be best off pretending Alice and the other dragon didn't exist, but he couldn't help but glance. Sure enough, Alice was slightly distracted, her eyes flickering over to watch him and Chloe. When he caught her at it, she looked back up to the dragon she was blowing.

If Alice and the man had been porn, they would have been very hot porn, and watching them would have added to the experience of a hot redhead going to town on his cock with her lips and tongue. But Alice was not porn; she was a person he had come to value and, if he was to be honest with himself, love. His stepfather, the man he had always thought of as his Dad, had been deeply turned on apparently by the thought of his mother fucking Gardner, but Brent was not turned on by the thought of Alice cuckolding him. Even if it wasn't really cuckolding at all. If that desire to watch another man take his woman had been hereditary, it had not passed on from his stepfather to Brent, but then, he had Gardner's genes, not his stepfather's.

So Brent looked down at Chloe. Her red painted lips surrounded his shaft, and her eyes gazed up at him with something much like adoration. Her breasts wobbled as she moved his cock in and out, in and out, of her hot wet mouth.

Chloe was pretty hot porn herself.

He looked around and spotted a blonde in a low cut red dress. She was a big girl, in pretty much every respect, but the bigness was perfectly proportioned so that what you noticed first, from the front, was the size of her breasts, and then how tall she was, and then the curve of her hips. He'd fucked her once, and she was deliciously soft all over. Kristin? No, Kirsten, that was her name. He caught her gaze and crooked his finger at her. She pushed up off the barstool she'd been half sitting, half leaning on, put her half-drunk martini on the bar, and walked toward him, his swaying, breasts bouncing, a walk designed to look good rather than cover the distance.

Brent watched Kirsten while Chloe drooled over his cock.

But she did manage to cover the distance eventually, since it was only twenty feet or so. He motioned her to take a place standing to the side of him, and to the side of Chloe. He debated whether to have her on the same side Alice was on, blocking his own view, or on the other side, making sure Alice, if her attention wavered, could see exactly what was going on, and settled on the latter.

"Mind if I rip that dress?" he asked Kirsten, whose small dragon tattoo was on the upper swell of her left breast. It was understood that no woman would cover the small tattoos that announced to dragons that they belonged to them, anywhere, anytime, so Kirsten must be flashing quite a lot of cleavage all the time.

"I don't know how I'll get - oh, sure, go for it." Kirsten said, her voice thick with her accent.

He grinned, grabbed the thin, clinging red material, and tore it. Kirsten's huge breasts were still partly covered by a white lacy brassiere. If for Chloe a bra was a frame with which to display her assets, for Kirsten it was a feat of structural engineering that could not afford to be so dainty.

Chloe cupped his balls. Brent cupped Kirsten's tits through her bra, feeling that more than a handful might not be a waste but it would be nice to have larger hands. As Chloe slid his cock further in Brent ripped again, exposing a curved stomach, a white thong, full hips, long legs.

"Like what you see, big boy?" Kirsten asked, with a jerk of her hip that made everything quiver. "Because I know how to show a guy a good time."

Chloe knew how to show a guy a good time, too, and was proving it. While Brent massaged Kirsten's massive boobs, Chloe came damn close to deep throating Brent's long thick cock. His anger was gone, the last bit of it in shreds like Kirsten's red dress, and all that was left was lust.

"Want me down there, what do you say, blowing?"

"Yeah." He didn't figure he had long to go, this round.

He didn't. As soon as Kirsten knelt next to Chloe, he felt himself swell, and knew he was on the edge. There was something about kneeling human women looking up at him with something adjacent to worship that turned him on. Human women? He asked himself. Wasn't he human? Wasn't it just women, looking up at him like that?

It distracted him only for a moment.

Chloe's hand moved on his shaft. Kirsten's hand joined it. His cock was plenty big enough for two hands, and the two girls - women! - moved their hand in unison, aiming his cock toward their eager, smiling faces, their mouths open, their lips extending, their eyes bright with excitement. All philosophical thoughts left his head. A stream of white burst from the head of his cock, splattering Chloe's hair and upper face, causing her to blink as cum got in her eye. Kirsten pulled and made sure the next spurt painted her Swedish nose, her tongue, and her chin. Chloe, pulling back, managed to get her neck and chest covered, and then Kirsten caught the rest of his cum with her tits.

They smiled at him, as if he'd done them a favor rather than the other way around.

"This, what do you call it, walk of shame?" Kirsten said. "It will be worth it."

"I don't think he's done, are you?" Chloe asked.

Brent shook his head. He guided them to a couch, and positioned them next to each other, facing him. He pulled off Kirsten's panties, and Chloe helped by removing her own. Then he started fucking them, sliding into Kirsten for a few strokes, then switching and fucking Chloe while Kirsten held her legs open for when he wanted to switch back.

His back was to Alice now. She could see what she saw. He wasn't going to look at her. Of course, lots of people could see him fucking the redhead and the blonde, but he wasn't nervous about his ability to perform in front of an audience, even after having cum once.

He looked up, briefly, from the two girls, and spotted a man in a fedora at the bar, watching. Gardner. The old man smiled, tipped his hat, and turned away.