A Boy and His Dad

Author's note:

This story revolves around a turning point in the relationship between a father and son, both sexual and emotional.

The main characters are androgynous and feminine, respectively. Some of the sexual aspects can be seen as unrealistic, though I have tried to avoid specifics. I invite you to view them to whatever degree you most prefer.

I hope you enjoy.

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September 30th - The Present

Alex's tongue lashed furiously against his father's own. The two of them were sweating, pressed together, both of them face-down on his father's bed in the early morning.

He'd slid into the bedroom alongside the very first beams of light from the sunrise. His father had been fast asleep, comfortable beneath a single sheet. Slowly and carefully, Alex had slid it down, then nudged down his father's shorts, the only thing he'd worn for the night. Then he'd brought up his enormous morning wood and pressed it firmly and inexorably against his father, Stacey, right between the buttocks.

It wasn't until Alex was just prodding that star apart that his father woke with a start.

"WHA-! HHNNNGG! N-no-!" His father had cut the volume of his own voice even as he struggled to wake. Alex had put all his weight up behind his young shaft, and in moments, several inches had pressed into his father's trembling, shaking body. His father twisted, but Alex's hand caught him on one shoulder and pressed him flat again while Stacey groaned. "This is NOT o-FFFFUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMPPPPHHHH!!!" Stacey had seized a pillow and forced his face into it as his cry fought to escape.

Alex's body trembled. His cock surged. Pre blasted into his father, several ounces of clear, lubricating fluid instantly saturating that tunnel and letting Alex slip further into his father. Into this utterly taboo relationship.

Stacey pulled the pillow away from his face and turned. His eyes were bleary, angry, and...hot. He panted, his mouth softly parted. "You can NOT keep doing this Alex!"

Alex just grinned. And pushed deeper.

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August 21st

This tale of carnal taboo began shortly after Alex's 18th birthday.

He'd gotten a gift. A gift of a bikini.

Delilah gave him a smoldering smile across their kitchen table as Alex held it up. "That's what I'm gonna wear for you. When we go out on the school trip to the beach."

For a second, no one moved. Alex's best friend Jackie looked thrilled, hungry even. He'd heard about all kinds of details between Alex and his girlfriend Delilah, from their rough start to the most recent details in their rapidly deepening relationship.

Mrs. Jorgensen, his PE and swimming teacher, looked bemused and not at all shocked. She was the only other adult in the room besides his father. She'd come bringing his cake, saving them all the embarrassment of a repeat of last year. Stacey was a good father. And a very poor man.

2 other boys and 3 other girls from his classes - Carl, Dwight, Nancy, Blake, and River, respectively - all held back smiles or looked away, blushing.

Then the room broke out in laughter and cheers, while Delilah had the good grace to look abashed and pleased at the same time. They all cheered and patted Alex on the back, or gave Delilah jealous looks, or just smiled.

He held the bikini up to himself. "I dunno! Maybe I'll wear it!" More laughter, while Delilah looked suddenly worried.

Alex was even shorter than she was. He was barely 5 feet tall, androgynous body, soft skin, shoulder-length blonde hair, and gentle features. If someone looked at him, they'd have a hard time deciding whether to think of him as a boy or a girl.

Delilah was just about to say something when he turned and tossed the bikini to his Dad. "Or have Dad wear it! He'd look great!" More laughter, and the rest of the tension broke as everyone relaxed with the joke. Stacey fumbled the bikini slightly, then held it up himself. Almost, but not quite, to himself. Alex' eyes landed on his father. And he realized that he might have been very right.

"Haaaaaaappy birthday toooooooo yoooooooouuu! Haaaaaaaaaaappy biiiiirtthdaaaay tooooooooo yooooooooooouuu-!"

Stacey began the singing with passionate energy. Everyone joined in, even as they watched Alex's dad stare at his son with nothing short of absolute adoration. It was almost heartbreaking to see him so happy, so engaged, so thrilled at his son's birthday. Decorations - cheap, but plentiful, and extremely thorough - surrounded all of them in the tiny kitchen.

The table was covered in a slightly worn table cloth with huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY print on it, the same one he always got out for this day of the year. Alex sneered at the old thing as they sang, but when Carl leaned a little too far during the singing and nudged a plastic cup full of soda, Alex grabbed the cup quick as lightning before it could spill, giving Carl a glare that promised death if he made a mess on this tablecloth.

Carl looked slightly abashed, even as he sang louder.

"Haaaaaaappy birthday deeeaaaarr AAAAAAAALLLLEEEEEXXXX! Haaaaaaaaaaappy biiiiirtthdaaaay tooooooooo yooooooooooouuu-!"

They cheered and clapped, his father loudest of all. "Heeeyyy, happy birthday buddy!" He produced their one kitchen knife and began slicing the huge cage, eyes shining with excitement. "Who wants some?!?"

Alex sighed inwardly, smirking to himself.

That night Alex walked into his father's bedroom with the bikini in hand.

"Hey buddy! What's up? Delilah's bikini?" Stacey turned toward him, then looked at the swimwear. Alex held it out. "Hey Dad. Put this one for me, will you?" Stacey's eyebrows rose. "What?! The bikini? I mean, are-" "Please, Dad."

Stacey blinked at his son. Then he looked at the swimwear. "Uhm. I don't, uhm. Well, okay! It's your birthday, after all, right? You know?" Alex didn't move, didn't acknowledge his father's words. Stacey hesitated again. Then he took the bikini.

"Uhm, I don't, uhm. This is a first-" Alex opened the bathroom door as his father dithered behind it. He hadn't locked it. Alex gave his father a critical eye.

Stacey was slightly taller than Alex, but it was clear it was he who'd given his son his short stature. He was androgynous himself, more slender than Alex, who was almost buxom. But while still boyish, his body - barely looking a day over 25, while Alex knew his father was in his 30s - was absolutely perfectly suited for such flattering clothing as the bikini.

He stood with wide eyes, staring at his son. "Look, I know it's not perfect, I just wanted to do it for you on your birthday! I've never done anything like this I know I'm wearing it wrongI'mjusttryingto-" Alex ignored Stacey's obvious and vast discomfort. He walked right up to his dad and wrapped him up in a hug. "Oh! Alex! I'm, well, I'm sure this is just-! Delilah has really good taste!"

Alex straightened up, went up on his tiptoes, and kissed his father on the cheek. Stacey blinked at him, swallowing hard. He barely had any stubble on his chin, despite his age, and Alex had none at all. Alex let go and stepped back, turning to go. "Thanks a lot, Dad. It was a great birthday." He looked back over his shoulder at his father. "And you really do look fucking great in that." "ALEX! Language!" Stacey stared at Alex, then managed a half smile. "Uhm, I'm glad! Glad you like it! I, you're amazing, Alex. I know I say it a lot, but I love you so much! I'm so proud of you, I really am. Everything you are. I'm a lucky Dad, and you put up with me. With all this." He gestured around the two of them, the old wallpaper on the walls, the chipped tiles on the floor, the yellowing popcorn ceiling. His eyes went back to his son. "Really, Alex. You're the best son I could have ever wanted."

He came out toward Alex, seeming to forget he was wearing such feminine swimwear. Alex stared at his father's face. Then, deliberately, he looked his father up and down. Stacey flushed, his hands shyly moving to cover himself. His cock bulge was noticeable, but not significant. His hips filled out the bottoms quite nicely, and his flat, slender chest fit inside the bikini top to perfection. Alex grinned. "You too, Dad. You too.

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September 30th - The Present

Stacey crawled away from his son. His limbs trembling from sleep, from sensation, from pleasure and from bone-deep shame, Stacey had reached the head of the bed in an attempt to pull away from his ravenous son.

It hadn't worked. Alex simply followed his father forward. His strokes deepened with every motion his father made. As Stacey gripped the fragile, cheap headboard, Alex rammed forward, their balls connecting for the first time as he finally impaled his father fully.

Stacey started to wail. The intensity was almost overwhelming. But he clapped a hand over his own mouth, his cries muffled by his own fingers as Alex churned that proud, masculine feature inside his father. Stacey turned, trying to meet Alex's eyes again, and caught his breath. Alex looked amazing. Stacey saw himself in his son, just like he always had, but deeply and thoroughly better. His features were finer, more clearly cut, his eyes perfectly symmetrical and stunning. He felt a hammerblow of conflicted emotions at that moment. The pride and gratitude of a hardworking father. And the shame, confusion, and despair of a moral failure.

Alex smiled back at his father. He looked both supremely satisfied, and furiously triumphant. His cock began to flex inside Stacey, and Stacey's heart shuddered anew. They both knew what was about to happen next.

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August 24th

"Don't forget your lunch!"

Alex sighed, looking back over his shoulder as a stab of annoyance went through him. His father came out from the kitchen with a grin on his face, a well-worn plasticware in his hand.

Alex found himself wanting to let the cheap screen door slam in his Dad's face.

"Almost forgot to put in some of your cake!" Stacey reached out, unzipped Alex's backpack and slid the container smoothly inside, then zipped it back up again. His task accomplished, he hesitated, looking Alex up and down. "God. I'm so glad we got you those new clothes. You're looking better than ever!" He gave Alex a proud smile, but it faltered slightly when Alex's look stayed flat.

"Thanks for lunch, Dad." Alex had to forcibly remind himself of how hard his father worked, how late he stayed sometimes, and yet never once forgot to make him breakfast or prepare his lunch, always followed up about school assignments, how relentless and patient he was about keeping up with Alex's life. Alex's voice began to soften as he thought about it, the familiar feeling of appreciation overcoming his annoyance at his father's obvious weaknesses. "I'll let you know when I'm leaving school. And, Dad?"

Stacey's smile began to return. And, damn it, Alex both loved and hated it. "Maybe we could-"

He was interrupted by his father's phone chiming. Stacey's eyes went wide. "Oh that's Mr. Carlile! Just a-!" He was already fumbling it out and holding it up to his ear. "Hello Mr.-... Yes, yes of course. I can-... Oh, you mean they can't cover-... Sir I'm sure we can-... What if we-..."

Alex was already gone, slamming the crumble picket fence gate shut as he angrily stomped down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. The all-too familiar sound of his father trying to reason with his demanding and uncaring boss fading behind him.

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September 30th - The Present

Alex looked down at the sweaty, arched form of his father, pressed up against the faded, false-wood headboard. He panted, a shudder running through him as he clenched his jaw. Stacey was moaning softly, sighing, much more violent shaking rolling through him. Alex could feel all the flesh around his cock trembling and quaking. His pleasure surged, even as his heart hammered with implications and consequences.

Alex found he was looking forward to them.

"So when the fuck were you gonna start putting up a real resistance, Dad?" Stacey started to turn. Alex spanked him, and Stacey gave a yelp. "I'm not finished! I've been coming in here for a month now Dad! Doing whatever I want! Mmmmmmfffff!" He stirred himself inside his father, enjoying the spasms of muscle around his shaft. "And you've enjoyed it almost as much as I have."

Stacey's mind was hazed, almost feverish. He felt overwhelmingly full. Alex's actions were more rude, inconsiderate, or forceful than anything else Alex had ever done. And as he said, it had happened every morning for a month.

And Stacey still had no real idea how he felt about it.

His lower half was churning, burning, blazing with oh-so-slowly-fading afterglow. His eyes stayed fixed on his son's face, the face he loved and adored so dearly. "Alex...! Why...?!" He watched his son set his jaw. Alex's face lowered slightly, and he began to pull back.

"Because someone has to be the man around here, Dad." And he slammed back inside his father. "And fuck I'm tired of waiting for you to do it!" Stacey had to grab his pillow to smother his face as Alex's pace built back up again. Thrusting, hammering, that inexorable pistoning he'd employed so often.

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August 27th

"Dad, come on. Look at this, are you fu-" Stacey turned a pair of raised eyebrows toward his son. Alex clamped his jaw together. His mouth worked as he took a breath, but he continued. More politely, this time. "Are...you...serious?"

Alex held up a pair of his father's underwear. They were white briefs, the epitome of basic and functional. And they had at least 2 rips and a hole in them.

Stacey ignored the undergarments for now. He reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder. "Hey, thanks for not swearing. It really means a lot." Alex glared at his father for a breath or two, trying to be angry. He found he couldn't. He blew out a breath. "Yeah, I know. It's no problem." Alex found he was still slightly annoyed, but to his further consternation, it was at himself, not his Dad.

They stood in their tiny laundry room, sorting clothing that had just come off the clothesline outside. Alex was sorting them into two piles, one for each of them, while his father expertly folded the clothing. It was a task he'd insisted on doing since Alex had been a child. He reached for the underwear Alex was still holding.

"I know, I know, they're growing a little worn, but I can-"

"Dad. Really?!" Alex forced himself to take another breath. "Come on, we can afford at least new underwear." He glared at the underwear, then looked at his Dad. Alex's voice softened a notch when he saw his Dad's expression. "I, uh, well, I needed to save up for, you know, other things. I have to be careful-"

"Dad." Alex's voice was very quiet. "My birthday?"

Stacey went a little paler. "It was an important day! I'm not going to apologize-" Alex dropped the underwear and grabbed his Dad for a hug.

After a minute or two, they broke away. Alex ignored the blur in his eyes and the shine in his Dad's.

"Okay, fine. But that's enough of that." Alex left the room. He came back in a minute with his school-given chromebook, pulling up Amazon. He started searching, right there. "Gonna find you some better ones. Some new ones. Right now." "But Alex, I can't afford-"

"I've been saving some, Dad. I'm buying."

"No! Absolutely not! I provide-" He was reaching for the laptop.

Alex looked up, reaching out. He grabbed his father's hand and squeezed it, hard. "Too bad." Stacey's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm not gonna let you do this alone any more, Dad." He squeezed his father's hand again, almost as hard, looking dead into his eyes. "You've been doing this by yourself all this time. Making all these decisions. Time to let up."

Stacey smiled at him. But Alex could tell he didn't really believe him. Alex let go of his father's hand and went back to his laptop.

And rapidly discovered that men's underwear was more expensive than he'd expected. Searching through page after page, he saw with dismay that every inexpensive brand was cheap and crappy-looking, while every other brand was far higher in price than he'd hoped.

His eyes flicked up to Stacey. His father had gone back to folding, though he still wore a little smile. What was that? Relief? Hope? Alex couldn't tell. But as he looked, he did notice something about his father. "You know, that bikini really did look great on you." Stacey stopped in surprise, glancing at Alex. Alex stared back. Then he went back to his laptop. Stacey looked unsure. "I mean...it was very nice. Delilah is gorgeous. She picked so, so well. You're a lucky guy to have her, Alex."

Alex tapped away at his keys without responding. The silence stretched. Then, with a final button press, he spun the laptop to face his Dad. "There you go. Perfect for you, Dad."

On the screen was a pack of 30 white cotton boyshorts.

For women.

Stacey blinked rapidly, eyes searching the page. "I, these are, I don't-"

"They're your size. They're not expensive. They're nice cotton. And there's 30 of them. You won't run out anytime soon. It's perfect."

Stacey looked for all the world like he was trying to come up with a reason to protest. But Alex knew he'd already won. Finally, Stacey shrugged a shoulder. "Uhm, well...whatever you think will work, I guess-"

Alex pushed the laptop into his Dad's hands and got to work on the laundry. Stacey's eyes went wide when he saw what Alex was doing. "No! I still need all of those-"

"Nope. The pack will be here tomorrow morning. You can wear what you're wearing til then. These are all going AWAY." Alex hefted a double-handful of his father's aging underwear, every pair he could find. He stalked out of the room and threw them in the kitchen trash. Next, he went for his father's drawers. "Hey! You can't just go through my things, Alex! Why are you-"

"You'll never get rid of any of this and you know it, Dad. So I'm doing it for you."

"Stop! I can still use those! They're just fine, they just need-"

Alex held up another pair. They had several holes, barely holding together at the waistband. His father flushed. "I only wear those when I-"

"Dad." He looked sternly at his father. But then his face softened. "...please? Will you stop?"

His father stared back, consternation on his features. He screwed up his face...then relented. "F-fine. Just, just-" Alex didn't wait. He took every pair he could find and threw them in the kitchen trash, then took it out to the cans outside.

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September 30th - The Present

"NNNNNOOOO-mmmmmmmnnnnffffff---!!!" The sound of audibly sloshing liquid of extreme viscosity became audible as the older man's cry was cut off by a pair of soft, full lips. The smacking sounds of kissing - one side hungry, the other side desperate - accompanied the gurgling, pulsing, rushing sound, though the liquid noises were muffled. Flesh and the copious mass of a similar eruption, not 10 minutes before, cushioned the violent, rampaging blasts, turning their violent energy into heavy, powerful swirls that retained their inertia with surprising longevity.

Stacey was seeing stars. Every single one of Alex's thrusts seemed to carve into his body. It was shocking to him that, despite the repeated, thorough, and unrelenting application, his own tissue never grew less supple, less healthy, or more prone to failure.