





HENRY:
When I was in the third grade, I won a spelling bee by correctly spelling the word "cul-de-sac," which felt like cheating, since I lived on one and each day I saw a sign saying "Stag Meadow Lane, Cul-De-Sac" right by my house. In a way, that spelling bee led me to where I am today. I wasn't good at math and science, like my older brother. I wasn't good at sports, like most of the other boys. But that day I realized I was pretty good at English. I always loved reading and devoured books well above my age level. So I figured: why not start writing them?
For me, being a writer at first meant spending weeks planning fantastical story universes and fictional dynasties' family trees, and then never doing any actual writing. I read interviews with successful novelists who advised young hopefuls to "read as much as you can," so that's exactly what I did. In addition to books, I started reading amateur fan fiction online. Over time, I ended up in the "smut" section, reading X-rated fics that I had no business reading at that age. Since it coincided with my entry into puberty, it soon became an obsession. For some reason, many of the stories were written by teen girls but revolved around gay relationships between male characters or celebrities who weren't even gay in real life. Eventually I moved on to full-on erotic fiction, written by and for adults. My parents had child-safety filters on our computer but it only censored photos and videos, so sexy stories quickly became my main source of porn at that time.
By the time I started college, my writing was a mixture of erotica and vanilla alike. Even though many people told me a degree in English was a bad idea, I actually learned a LOT and I never regretted it for a second, even if it meant moving back to my parents' house after graduation jobless.
And then… things took a turn for the worst. The summer after my graduation, my parents got in a car crash that cost my mother her life and left my dad in a coma. All of a sudden, I found myself the sole resident of the house I'd grown up in. While most of my peers moved to Philadelphia or New York and started careers there, I got a job at the local diner and spent all of my free time writing.
A few years later, at the age of 25, I published my first book. It was a murder mystery and an immediate hit, partly because the main character was openly bisexual which was still considered "edgy" at the time. It was followed by four more volumes in the series. During one of the numerous book signings, I met Xavier, who became my boyfriend and later my fiancé. He and I now lived together in my parents' house, and I had even become the subject of a bidding war for the movie rights to my books. It looked like things were finally looking up. And then to top it all off…
"Your father is awake," came a phone call from the hospital. As much as she tried to remain impartial, even the nurse's voice was excited. After ten years in a coma, my father was a celebrity at Phoenixville General.
At the time when I got the call I was sitting at The Hungry Stag, the diner where I used to work. It was one of my favorite places to write. The owner, a man named Reggie, was one of our town's most beloved residents. I'd also struck a friendship with his son Emmett, who was a reporter and often came to write at The Stag as well, so we usually shared a table and worked side-by-side. Since I was 32 and Emmett 25, there were a few years between us but we'd quickly become best friends.
The call from the hospital shocked me, causing me to spill a large soda all over Emmett's laptop on the table.
"I'm sorry! I'll buy you a new computer," I said in panic mode, rushing to get up. "That was the hospital. My father's awake!"
"My computer's fine, don't worry. Go! Are you okay to drive, do you want me to take you?" Emmett offered.
"I'm okay! You take my stuff home," I yelled, causing a scene running out of the diner. I left everything behind: my bag, my laptop, all of my notebooks. I had no time to collect anything. Only one thing mattered now: my father, finally awake.
—
After a short one-on-one with Dr. O'Hara at the hospital, I was finally allowed to see my dad. His doctors left the room, leaving me alone with him. He looked nervous, almost scared of me. Keeping in mind what Dr. O'Hara told me about my father being "mentally fragile", I looked at him and I asked,
"Dad… Can I hug you?"
"Yes," said a raspy voice that hit me like a wave. A wave of nostalgia and overwhelming emotion. I started crying and ran to the bed, giving my father a big hug, trying not to squeeze too hard. I stayed that way for what felt like five minutes until I finally calmed down. I stopped bawling, I pulled up a chair, and sat next to the bed.
"I'm so happy you're awake. It's been ten years since we've… talked," I said, trying to keep it together.
My father looked at me anxiously, going through his own whirlwind of emotions.
"They told me you don't remember anything," I said. "Don't worry, we're gonna get you there, okay? You're gonna be alright," I said, squeezing his hand.
"You are… my son?" Dad said. It still felt so surreal to hear his voice after all this time!
"Yes," I smiled and nodded. "You have another son but he's in Antarctica of all places. He's a scientist there. So you picked quite the time to wake up! It might take him a while but he'll come as soon as possible, he'll be thrilled to see you."
My father looked at me even more anxiously, and I realized maybe it wasn't the best idea to hit him with the story about my brother right away.
"How about I show you some photos?" I said, pulling out my phone, excited about my own idea. I stored all my photos on the cloud, so I quickly accessed our old family albums, showing Dad photos of himself, his wife, his kids, his entire extended family. I expected him to say "Aha! I remember that!!" but instead, he just looked overwhelmed. After ten of fifteen minutes, he politely asked me to stop so he could have some rest.
"Of course. I'm sorry," I said, putting my phone away. Only then did I realize that even the concept of a modern-day smartphone was probably scary to someone who'd spent the past ten years in a coma. "The doctor said you can go home soon, Dad. You can come with me. I'm so happy to have you back!"
—
My fiancé Xavier was understandably shocked that my father, whom he'd never met, would be coming to live with us. Since moving in, Xavier had taken it upon himself to oversee the renovation of the entire house, with the exception of my parents' room, which I'd always insisted remain intact. (Much to Xavier's chagrin, who insisted it would make for a perfect home gym.)
Bringing Dad back home was an emotional moment for me, mostly because I assumed it would be an emotional moment for him. Truth was, my father was quite hard to read now. I had no idea if any of this rang any bells for him, and his timid, cryptic answers weren't helping either. After showing Dad around and introducing him to Xavier, I gave him a few towels and suggested he go take a shower to "wash the hospital off him."
"Yes, good idea, thanks," my father said and disappeared to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Xavier decided to go out to give Dad and me some time by ourselves. After my fiancé left, I putzed around the house, waiting for Dad to come out of the bathroom and join me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Half an hour later, my father finally reemerged, fully dressed.
"I hope it's okay. I found these clothes in the closet," he said almost apologetically.
"Of course! They're your clothes," I reminded him.
I tried to make small talk, but I could tell there was something on Dad's mind. Finally, after half an hour, he decided to come out with it.
"Henry… I wanted to ask you something. On my way out of the shower I noticed a tattoo on my…"
"On your ass?" I said, holding back a chuckle.
"Yes," Dad replied bashfully. "I never noticed it when I showered at the hospital but there's that large mirror by the shower here and it just… caught me by surprise."
"I was there when you got it," I said casually. Even though he was being awkward about it now, I wanted Dad to know that this was the kind of thing that he and I used to talk openly about.
"Oh, really?" Dad asked me.
"Yes. It was on my 21st birthday. That's why the heart has a ribbon with 'XXI' on it."
"So you've seen it?"
"Yes. It's been ten years, but I've seen it," I smiled. "I got this tatt on the same day," I flashed him the Gemini sign on my bicep, which was significantly bigger now after a few years of working out. "It was… a fun night."

My father smiled, and then changed the topic by complimenting the coffee I'd made. Meanwhile, I started to reminisce about the night of my 21st birthday, and everything that happened between Dad and me in the hotel room all those years ago. The sexy memories made me pop a boner under the kitchen table and I wished I could share the full story with my father, but this was probably not the right moment for it.
A while later, Dad asked to take a nap, so I decided to go do the same. I went to my bedroom and grabbed a quick shower, jumping into bed naked afterwards. With my eyes closed, I started to see an image of my dad's tattoo in my mind. A heart on his right asscheek: an ass I was staring at the entire time while he and I were at the tattoo parlor. Before I knew it, my hand found its way between my legs and started tugging on my cock, still thinking about the night of my 21st birthday, reminiscing…
11 YEARS EARLIER
Back when I was much younger and started reading erotic stories online, I eventually stumbled upon the incest section. It was one of the most popular and frequently updated ones; obviously a hidden fetish for many people who would never dare to admit it.
I read those stories, turned on by the taboo of it all. I didn't think it had anything to do with my real life. But then as time went by, I started to look at my father and my older brother in a… different way. It was as if my eyes were suddenly opened to how hot they both were. My dad was only 19 when I was born, so he was much younger and more attractive than all of my friends' dads. As a teen, I realized I had a secret crush on him, and I decided to take that secret to the grave.
Throughout the years, Dad sure made it hard not to lust after him. He often walked around shirtless or in his underwear, sometimes even changing in front of my brother and me. It was no big deal for him, but a HUGE deal for me. After catching a glimpse of his adult penis, I'd often go straight to my room and masturbate, sometimes reading a father-son story and imagining us as the main characters. My fantasies persisted even when I got to college. In our dorm room for three, I had the top bunk and I'd often read erotic stories in bed, grinding my groin against the mattress while my roommates studied in the same room.
Then on the night of my 21st birthday, my wildest fantasy came true. I touched my dad's dick for the first time in our lives! I did much more than just touch it: I jerked him off to completion!! I don't know if it's fair to blame it on the liquor. Yes, we were both drunk, but we also wanted it. We were two horny men, away from everyone else. My father obviously enjoyed showing off, even if it was in front of his own son. He still had no idea I'd been secretly lusting after him for half my life.
After blowing his daddy load on my face, my father brought all his jizz down to my lips with his fingers, helping me swallow my little siblings so I could go to sleep on a full stomach. I felt like a real-life character from one of those dirty stories! That night, Dad and I slept in the same hotel bed, fully naked, him spooning me from behind. Calling it "sleeping" might be a bit of a misnomer since I kept waking up the entire night, unable to believe this was really happening. Each time I woke up I felt my throbbing boner between my legs, begging for release.
Finally, I decided to just go for it. Dad had gotten to blow his load tonight; now it was my turn, even if he was snoring in bed next to me. I took my hard-on in my hand, slowly stroking it and thinking about the sensation of Dad's semen dripping down my face and into my cum-guzzling mouth. I spread my legs a bit to grab hold of my nads. Tugging on my nut sack, I pumped my dick even faster, fantasizing about sucking Dad's jizz straight out of the source.
And then… I felt something rising between my asscheeks. There was no doubt in my mind what it was: Dad's cock, growing. I started to grind my ass against it until it reached complete erection. It was perfectly lodged between my cheeks, like a hotdog between two buns. I wasn't even sure if Dad was awake or not but I enjoyed him sliding up and down against my crack. Then, he cleared his throat, letting me know he was indeed awake.
"Ahem. What're you doing?" Dad whispered in my ear. Feeling his breath on the back of my neck gave me goosebumps.
"I woke up with a hard-on," I whispered back in the darkness. "So I'm tryna get rid of it."
Next moment, I felt my father's hand reach around my waist and grab hold of my throbber. "Mmm!" I moaned out loudly and started to thrust back and forth, fucking Dad's fist.
"That's a good boy," he grunted sleepily in my ear. It was the dead of night; neither of us had any idea what time it was. This was all like a dream. "The hottest fucking dream of my life," I thought as I felt my father squeeze my dick harder, making me leak precum all over the hotel sheets.
By this point, Dad's dick was also leaking like a busted dam. I could feel his precum stick to my lower back, some of it landing between my asscheeks as well. In my mouth, I could still taste Dad's delicious semen from earlier. Too horny to hold back, I turned around and – throwing caution to the wind – I went down and took my father's fat boner right in my mouth.
"AHH! Henry!" he moaned, startled by my action. However, he made no attempt to push me away or pull out of my mouth. On the contrary: Dad started to thrust back and forth, fucking my throat and depositing his precum straight down my gullet now.
"This is really happening!" I thought, feasting on the cock that made me. It was my first time sucking dick since my college boyfriend broke up with me a few weeks ago, and what a way to rebound! I placed my hands on Dad's firm asscheeks, feeling the Saran wrap that was protecting his fresh ink. Dad squeezed his ass as he went deeper inside my throat, his fingers combing through my hair.
"Henry…" he moaned loudly, making my name echo around the room. Hearing him say my name in this way turned me on even more. I sucked his dick vigorously while pulling on his balls, eager to get one more load out of them before the night was over.
Maybe because he'd cum just a couple of hours earlier, Dad didn't reach orgasm quickly this time around. I worked on his tool for over half an hour, slobbering all over it and nursing on the engorged cockhead before taking the whole shaft up my mouth. Tugging on my hair, Dad started to fuck my face, squeezing my torso with his strong legs. Even if I wanted to get away, I couldn't. As I lay on my stomach sucking him, my own boner rubbed against the mattress, just like all those times on my top bunk in my dorm room. Every time I came close to cumming, I made sure to lift my hips and prolong the sensation.
"Son… Mmm… I'm gonna cum," Dad suddenly moaned, pressing hard on the back of my head and shoving his dick all the way down my receptive throat. I felt his rod throb a couple of times before it erupted, feeding me the source of life. Dad's sperm slid straight down my gullet and into my belly. The taste was familiar but still slightly different now that I was getting it directly from Dad's dick. I made sure to swallow every last drop – not that I had much choice with his prick buried so deep down my throat. I felt myself about to cum as well but I held on for just a few more moments. Then, just as Dad was done depositing his load in my stomach, I got up and straddled him, aiming my dick at his chest and belly.
My goal was to shoot my load on my dad's torso. I figured, after cumming inside my mouth, he wouldn't have a huge problem if I came on his stomach. What I hadn't predicted was that my cumshot would be so big and potent, that I ended up shooting all the way to Dad's face, coating it in my cum just like he'd done to me earlier in the night. I expected him to pull away in disgust. Instead, Dad continued to moan and he even encouraged me. "There you go, boy. Empty those nuts! C'mon, shoot your load. Show it to me. Show me how you cum, boy!" my father commanded. I followed his pervy instructions, blowing an even larger wad of cum all over the other side of his face. The next few shots landed on his hairy chest and belly, sticking to the dark fur that was on there. Even in the dark room, I could see my discharge glistening on my dad's skin.
Once I was done shooting, I bent back down to give my father a tongue bath and lick my jizz off him. I started on his belly, going up and licking between his pecs, where he was the hairiest. I nursed on his nipples for a few moments, flicking them with my tongue before moving on up to his collarbone and neck. Next, we were head-to-head and I was licking my nut off his handsome face, until we wrapped the night up with a big kiss; swirling both of our loads from one mouth to the other. Without saying a single word, we fell back asleep.
PRESENT DAY
… As the memory of that night replayed in my head, I could almost taste Dad's jizz in my mouth, mixing with my own. With my eyes closed, I pumped my fist up and down my boner, lying naked in the bed I shared with Xavier and reminiscing about the first sexual adventure I had with my male parent. Squeezing my throbber harder and harder, my nuts tightened, ready to shoot. And then, I started to ejaculate, that wonderful sensation spreading all over my body. I curled my toes and opened my eyes, my dick erupting like a geyser… when I saw my father, eleven years older than he was in my memory, standing in the doorway of my bedroom and watching me cum all over my naked body.