Coming Home Late – Asher Richards & Reese Rideout
To say that my son Asher and I developed an unorthodox relationship would be a huge understatement. Since we started exploring a sexual relationship, the line between him and my parental duties and responsibilities has become blurred, especially as my carnal desire for the boy has grown stronger and stronger. This is not to say that both sides cannot coexist within me. But surely one would expect that, as a parent, my paternal instincts trump my lust.
One night, I realized I was past Asher’s curfew. I sat alone in the dark, a little frustrated but also enjoying the solitude. I couldn’t help but fantasize about giving him a stern talk that led to him laying him on my lap and spanking his bare ass. I wanted to ?accidentally? slip between your legs and take longer than they should. I went back and forth in my head with this. Do I put my pants on? Dad? and give you a real talk? No spanking? Would he or would he not be turned on by this? How would I discipline him if he liked discipline?
I don’t know how long I sat there, but suddenly I heard the door open. When the lights came on, Asher entered. He was surprised to see me awake and naturally asked what I was doing sitting there in the dark like a weirdo. I was being weird, wasn’t I? Stranger still, the second we made eye contact, I was completely disarmed.
Instead of a stern conversation, I started to ramble on about being worried about other men. and what would they do with it. Which was mostly a lie, mostly. I’m actually worried about bad men contacting my FTM son, but I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought of other men doing whatever they want to him for me to see.
Worse, though, I think Asher knew he was never really going to get in trouble for not following the house rules. All he had to do was say? I love you dad? when he came in for a hug, and any memory of punishing him disappeared. His touch led to a kiss that made my head spin. Before I knew it, my pants were unzipped and unzipped and I melted completely as I watched my cock enter my boy’s mouth and rest on his tongue.
He looked at me as his head bobbed up and down. He let his tongue slide down the length of my shaft, knowing I was completely at his mercy. He let me help him undress and I made him get on all fours on the leather couch. The spanking fantasy raced back in my head. But instead of turning those perky cheeks red with my big hands, I dove in face first to taste it. Every time I dove into it it felt like the first time, but always as forbidden and tasty as the last time. I let my big middle finger dip into his hot, wet hole as I let my tongue slide up and down his slit.
It wasn’t long before I had him upright against the railing of our stairs and I slid onto him from behind. He was so warm, so inviting. He stretched his head back as he hummed and groaned as I started pumping in and out of him, letting me kiss him as I did so. Whether it was this position, or him straddling me, or missionary – my favorite – my son looked sexy in all of them. If there’s one thing I can guarantee at this point in our relationship, it’s that he’ll always be ready to help me get a load off my dick with very little work. I shot him across the belly, realizing that it was me, perhaps, who needed to be punished. Would I have to work to reclaim my role as a serious parental figure? one who was absolutely not fascinated by my boy’s bonus hole.
