Note -- this story is about gay incest, it also contains some derogatory language, reader discretion is advised.
Note -- thanks to JohnMurray and Don Elliott for editing and input.
I'm Dan, 37, with shaggy, dirty blonde hair, blue/grey eyes, 5'8", and 120lbs. I have two sons, Alan and Bill.
Alan is 19, 6', with shoulder-length brown hair and deep blue eyes. He is the sporty one and got to college on a soccer scholarship.
Bill is 18, 6'2", body builder type with a blond crew cut and grey eyes. He says he's going to be a marine.
If you believe that.
I suspect he's going for the WWE with all that posing he does.
Or Onlyfans knowing my luck.
Their mom and I had split 10 years ago, and for a few years, I got to see them on alternate weekends and for a week or so over the holidays. Then they hit their teens and became more interested in girls, sports, games, and hanging out with their mates.
It hurt, but I didn't want to risk damaging my relationship with them by demanding to see them when they'd literally rather be anywhere else. I haven't dated much since the split, didn't feel like 'getting back out there'.
The dating landscape had changed so much as to be completely unrecognisable.
Not to mention scary.
I swam a couple of times a week and did Pilates to try to fend off the 'dad bod'. I avoided as much social engagement as I could, apart from the local bar on quiet nights.
My ex got most of the mutual friends in the split, and the few I had drifted away since I didn't really put the effort in.
It was spring break, and I had decided that I would rent an apartment in Florida and take the boys with me.
Out of character, you say?
Definitely.
But I felt like I needed a break from my routine, and this way, I got to make sure the boys didn't get too wild.
Plus, it was my first opportunity to spend some quality time with them in years. Maybe I could start to get to know them as individuals rather than the children they used to be.
A fresh start, a clean slate and a new beginning, hopefully without baggage.
And maybe, just maybe, I thought that some college girls might be looking for an older man to 'work out some daddy issues'...
Why would two college boys want their dad tagging along when they would be on a week-long blowout? Free place to stay, free food, free drink and a safe haven in case they had a fight with their mates.
Their only stipulations were that I didn't come with them when they went out, and the place had to have a pool and ideally be by the beach.
No problem.
The problem was the apartment was tiny and only had one real bedroom. The second room was a small office with a single camp bed shoehorned.
The boys looked at me accusingly. I smiled and shrugged. "What did you expect? Something off of MTV?"
Bill rolled his eyes, folded his muscular arms across his big chest, flexing in evident frustration, staring at the ceiling.
Al scowled and said, "Uh, Dad! You're so old!"
"Look, it's simple." I said, still smiling, "Every night before you two hit the town, we'll play cards. Winner gets the biggest room for the night, and the loser gets the couch." Al and Bill exchanged wary glances. "And..." I added, rummaging in a bag, "If anyone doesn't stick to their assigned room or fails to do their chores, they have to wear this!" I said, and with a flourish, I pulled a skimpy French maid uniform out of the bag.
Both of them stared open-mouthed in horror.
"In addition, they have to do all the cooking and cleaning chores for the day regardless of rota."
"On one condition," Al said, looking from me to Bill and back.
"Which is?" I replied.
"No pics or videos to be taken while we're here," Al said.
"Fine." huffed Bill.
"Suits me," I said nonchalantly.
That ended the discussion on the apartment and sleeping arrangements.
With the unexpected bonus of no photographic or video evidence of the drunken idiocy that was bound to happen at some point.
We all unpacked in the main bedroom and headed to the shops to stock up on food and drink. Despite only staying for 5 days, we somehow needed 10 bottles of vodka, 10 bottles of tequila, 20 bottles of wine and 4 crates of beer.
We returned and loaded the kitchen, then stuck a cleaning and chore rota to the fridge, just like back in college.
That being done, I fried some steaks, and we opened some bottles so they could 'pre-game'.
They headed out at 11pm to sample the nightlife before they hit the beaches tomorrow when spring break officially started.
Having drank a little too much wine I took the master bedroom, assuming they would be too drunk to care where they slept the first night.
Even at night, it was hot and humid; the windows were open, but the air was still. I slept nude on top of the covers, figuring out the A/C could wait for the morning.
At some point, the boys returned, stumbling around, clattering into things until they made it to the couch. A heavy thud indicated one of them had found his bed for the night. The other threw a blanket over him before leaving the sick bucket next to his head, along with a bottle of water.
Bill then drunkenly swayed his way to the master bedroom. I could see his face in the darkness before I wrapped a pillow around my head to block out the noise and turned on my side, facing away from him.
I heard him stumbling around, getting undressed in an unfamiliar environment, muttering to himself as he lay down next to me.
Also nude.
The additional body warmth didn't bother me.
His muscular arm wrapped around my chest and pulled me closer. It felt weird. I was used to being the 'big spoon', not the 'little spoon'. This was an unfamiliar, vulnerable, yet strangely comforting, strangely exciting, confusing, sweaty place to be.
My 18-year-old wrestler son dwarfed me. It should've felt alarming, being wrapped in his tight embrace. Instead, it felt like being snuggled in a powerful, thick blanket of hot, sweaty, stinky, sexy muscle.
The feeling of being helpless, smothered, of feeling overpowered and effortlessly dominated was strangely arousing.
I couldn't help myself as I wriggled against him, pushing back into him more, pulling his arms around me even tighter.
I sighed contentedly as I felt his soft, thick cock nestle between my ass cheeks.
Somehow it felt right...
Like it belonged there...
My own thin 3.5" hairless prick and grape-sized balls tingled with the taboo of forbidden, perverse excitement.
I assumed he had gone back to sleep, and we lay like that for a little while, butterflies fluttering in my gut until I began to feel his cock twitch. He started to move again, rubbing his soft cock against my ass, sending sparks of pleasure erupting through me every time he brushed against my hole. His hand now gently stroking my lower back and thighs, making me shiver and sigh involuntarily like he was trying to get comfortable or comfort me. At the same time, his arm around me tightened, forcing my head back and exposing my neck. He moved his head so that his heavy breathing was tickling my ear, his lips brushing against me.
Before I had been happy, I had cocooned myself in my son's hot, hard, sweaty, stinky, sexy muscles like a little femme kitten, purring away happily.
Now his lips were at my neck, the arm wrapped around my chest had moved to my pecs, his fingers teasing my increasingly aroused nipple.
My already hard prick was now painfully erect and aching!
I heard myself moan quietly, in a way I had only ever heard girls moan before - that soft, sexy moan that could only mean one thing...
Don't stop! Please don't stop!!
Shocked at my reaction to what my son was doing to me, I pushed him off me and onto his back.
"Woah..." I breathed, catching sight of his still mostly soft cock. It had to be at least six inches long and mouth-wateringly thick. His shaved balls looked like duck eggs.
I had been about to shout at him, but the sight of this perfect specimen made the anger die in my throat.
Until that moment, I'd never thought a cock could be beautiful.
I could hear my heart beating in my ears and a wave of heat rushed through me. With an audible gulp, I managed to tear my fascinated gaze away from my son's endowment, although I couldn't help but stare open-mouthed at his chiselled perfection for a while longer.
Bill stirred in his sleep, one hand briefly scratching his balls as if inviting me to lap at them before he settled down again. It was enough to break the spell, and I moved to the edge of the bed and lay on my front, my head facing away from him, away from temptation.
It didn't take long until I felt the bed moving. Bill was once again at my side, his hands moving with surprising gentleness on my back.
At first, I froze, my muscles tense, holding my breath. But as he began to caress me, I felt the tension easing, despite being naked, massaged by my equally naked son. I felt my body start to relax, my breathing getting deeper, involuntary groans escaping as he worked out some long-forgotten knots.
He worked his way down my back and then, sensing that my initial resistance had faded, started on my legs, first one, then the other from my toes to the very tops of my thighs.
Those butterflies were back and stronger than ever as Bill demonstrated his skill and strength. It felt exciting to be massaged completely naked by someone who was also naked. I had to lift my hips a little to re-arrange my prick, which had mysteriously come to life again.
Bill took that as a sign and ran his hands up the back of my thighs, his thumbs between my legs, subtly spreading them wider, then cupping and kneading my ass cheeks, causing me to inhale sharply.
