Note: This is the first in series of three stories about the adventures of a bisexual dad. This one includes some explicit gay sex, so if that bothers you, you'd better move on.
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"Your mother wants you to fuck her," I announced, as I slid my full eight inches into my son's well-oiled asshole.
"Oh yeah?" he gasped, his sphincter clutching at my tool as he took it in. "How do you know?"
"The last three times we've role-played, she's asked me to pretend to be you," I said, as I set up a nice, steady rhythm. "I'd say that's pretty conclusive."
"Holy fuck..." he groaned. "Damn, just thinking about fucking Mom while your cock's plugging my ass it makes me wanna cum already, Dad."
I grinned as his Kevin's butt muscles clutched at my cock. I hoped this was going to be one of his three or four cum days. I'd already sucked him until he dumped a very respectable load down my throat, see, and I hadn't had my ass reamed out yet. I reached under him and cupped one of his hard pecs in my hand, then tweaked his nipple, which made him clench his rectum in response. Damn, my son's hole was tighter than anything I'd ever fucked, and I wasn't exactly inexperienced. It felt like a velvet glove grabbing me, sending those old familiar sensations spiraling out of my balls...
I knew what was coming, so I thrust harder into him, roughly, almost savagely, and my free hand joined one of his on his own large cock. Peppering his neck and back with kisses, I kept pounding and stroking away until I felt his glossy pre-cum dribbling onto my hand...and then I increased the rhythm. As he groaned in release and I felt his hot seed drench both of our hands, I let myself go, bellowing as I blew a huge load up my boy's ass.
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Oddly enough, my son's not gay...not really. In fact, until a year ago, I wouldn't have said that Kevin had a gay bone in his body, and he's never show the slightest sign of femininity, even when I've got my cock planted deep in his ass. Nor did I consider myself gay or bi...until my son told me he wanted my cock.
I was driving him home from football practice when he broached the subject. He was very tentative and nervous that afternoon, which is what I noticed first. I took in his flushed face as he slammed the car door and asked, concerned, "What's the matter, kiddo? You get overheated?"
"No," he muttered, staring at his shoes.
"Then what is it?" I asked, as I pulled into the street. "If there's something bothering you, you can be honest with me. You know that."
Kevin looked up at me suddenly and said, breathlessly, "Fine, I'll tell you. Remember when you thought nobody was home but you and Mom at three o'clock yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes..." I said cautiously.
"I was home." His face was pale. "I got out of class early."
"And...?" I said, drawing it out. I already knew where this was going.
