In Part 4, Jake's father John woke up to two young men's mouths on his cock--one of which was his son's.
Part 5 - 50% of Your DNA & The Memory
Jake and Marty had gone back and forth on John's cock and balls. Jake wasn't surprised by Marty's enthusiasm. He was a performative, shameless guy who always seemed to go with the flow with spirit. Jake, however, was surprised by his zeal. Having a 7" cock fill his throat and, to that end, discovering that he had no gag reflex provided him a mixture of pride and pleasure. (Jake recalled his nutrition class, in which he learned the act of swallowing--of having something in your throat--released endorphins, which garnered stifled giggles among the class. Maybe sucking cock wasn't so weird.)
But here he was--his cock hard between the bed and his abdomen. He licked his father's balls and sucked his cock to the hilt. He thought he tasted precum (he was right). He pushed thoughts of his father out of his mind, lest the fluttering feelings of embarrassment and the pang of guilt in his gut ruin his drunken pleasure.
But as Jake swallowed again, the cock slathered in two men's saliva, and he felt the pole of taut skin become even more rigid. It expanded. Jake knew what this meant--he'd felt the same sensation whenever Marty blew his load after requesting swallowing. Jake thought, for a millisecond, of pulling off his father's cock. How weird would it be to swallow his dad's load, from which 50% of his DNA came? He pushed the thought out of his mind, and before he could take any action, the penis pulsed.
Far down his throat, he couldn't feel the cum. Jake found pleasure in that--he hated the taste of cum. Whenever he blew Marty and swallowed, he took it straight down the pipes to avoid the bitter taste.
His father's cock expanded repeatedly. The thickness felt powerful, even in this orgasmic moment when John Vilsack was at his most vulnerable. To Jake, it felt like a minute of servitude. Marty continued licking Mr. Vilsack's balls, unaware of Jake's meal.
Jake pulled off the faceless dick, feeling the wetness of precum under his belly button. He gasped for air.
"Come on," he caught his breath.
Marty had begun sucking the anonymous cock again, noticing its softening.
"Come on," whispered Jake again. He slowly slipped out from under the sheet. He avoided looking at the bed again. As he stood, his nearly 8" jutted out from his pelvis. He tiptoed across the hall to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes, glazed, stared into the darkness.
Marty entered the room, breaking Jake's trance.
"I'm so fucking horny," Marty whispered, shutting the bedroom door and gripping his cock. It swelled.
That was Jake's cue to respond in kind. They'd give each other blow jobs if he did. But Jake remained silent, his thoughts racing. He didn't want to answer.
"Did that turn you on?" Jake asked, listless.
"Sure. Whatever. Yeah, it did. I don't care. I just know I'm horny," Marty thought aloud.
Jake sat silently again, his mind and body filled with emotions. He felt guilt for swallowing another load. It was his father's. He was embarrassed. What if his dad knew? Would he be upset? Angry? Or would he like it?
Jake was still hard. He wondered why. He wasn't gay--he repeated this thought over and over. But it felt good. His body betrayed his sexuality. Yes, he was understanding of Marty's explanation. He was straight and enjoyed sucking cock. It was that simple. But was it?
His father. Oh god, his father. Why would he do that? It was the alcohol. Yes. He was drunk and easily influenced. His friend enabled it and pretended like it was some everyday part of playing a drinking game. Daring someone to have sex with a family member wasn't normal. And to go through with it? Less normal. Weird, even. Bad. And wrong.
Jake's panic fueled his erection. Lost in thought, Jake hadn't noticed Marty lying on the bed. His feet were next to Jake's thigh, and Marty shook the bed, feverishly jacking off.
Jake lay down on the bed. It shook. But he paid no mind to his friend jacking off. He didn't even hear Marty groaning as he came all over his torso, a shot to his chest. He didn't see Marty grab a shirt to clean himself off. Jake laid there, staring at the ceiling. His cock softened, and he fell asleep.
The following day Jake woke up. He heard voices from the kitchen, still naked and alone in his bed. His father and friend must be awake then.
Jake, a little hungover, was dying of thirst. He put on boxers and stumbled to the kitchen. His father and Marty were eating at the breakfast table--nude.
The sides of their thighs were visible. John's hairy chest and the trail that led to his bush were visible. He turned away before he could see anything else. Jake wasn't in the mood for this. In fact, after last night, most of which he remembered too vividly, he had zero patience.
Marty and John said good morning. Jake either didn't hear them or ignored them. They weren't sure. He grabbed a glass, got some water, and returned to his room. He had no intention of entertaining time spent with his father while he was naked.
Meanwhile, John asked Marty quietly, "What's up with him?"
"I dunno. We had some rum last night," Marty said sheepishly.
John smirked but said nothing. He didn't encourage their drinking, but he was glad that if they were going to drink, they'd do it at home and not drive.
John sensed why Jake was behaving the way he was. He felt guilty, even though he hadn't invited his son and Marty to give him a blow job. John should have stopped it or rolled over or something; he shouldn't have let it happen. He recalled cumming inside a mouth. He wondered if it was his son's and was turned on by it. His cock stirred.
"What'd y'all do last night?" John asked.
Marty swallowed some pancakes. "Drank. Watched a movie, played...," his voice faded before he finished his sentence.
"Played what?" asked John. He looked at his food while he ate, playing nonchalance.
"Um," Marty said. Does Mr. Vilsack know? Was he awake last night, he wondered? "Truth or dare," he said abruptly, "you know, teenager stuff."
Marty thought about last night and thought about Jake's silence this morning. He must be pissed off. Or something. Marty didn't know how he felt. He didn't have a dad but thought any closeness with his deceased father would be heavenly, emotionally or physically.
"Oh yeah," John said and laughed. "I played that at your age more than I can count."
"Really?" Marty asked. Even at 18, it was hard to imagine adults as young and dumb.
"Oh yeah. Can lead to some pretty fun stuff, right?"