Connecting

Muttering incoherent words of comfort under his breath, Don rubbed harder, brushing his finger tips up and down the cocks hot length. With a breathy unh, Luke tilted his hips to place his crotch directly under his father's kneading palm. Gazing over Don's shoulder, he swallowed, rolling his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Don watched an empty potato chip packet dance on the sidewalk as his hand deftly unzipped his teenage son's fly. A twisting tug freed seven throbbing inches of boy cock, purple with blood and curving gently to the left just like Don's own. Luke gasped, then moaned when Don hefted his sack, rolling his nuts gently.

"Don't be mad, buddy," he repeated, wrapping his fingers around the thick meat, lined with a snaking vein and so hot in Don's hand. Jerking slowly at first, he gradually built up speed until he was pumping furiously. Viscous pre-cum oozed from the boy's swollen cockhead, coating his whipping palm. The trucks cab filled with its distinctive tang, it mingling with their sweat. Don snorted, sucking in the primeval stench of aroused males.

"Fuck. Daddy fuck. Daddy fuck Daddy fuck." Luke's groans and pants got louder as his hips began to buck. Knuckles white, fingers gouging deep into the pick-up's stained leather, he humped desperately into his father's fist, all but crying with pleasure.

"I know, buddy, Daddy knows." Not slowing his motions, he bent at the waist till his staring face was bare inches from Luke's thrusting groin. Closing dazed eyes, Don let his tongue loll from between his dry lips.

With a roar, Luke slammed his cockhead into his fathers tongue and came, shot after shot of hot cum slapping themselves onto Don's waiting tongue.

"Daddy! Fuuuck."

Half swallowing the cum, half smearing it over his lips in his eagerness, Don milked Luke's cock for more, pulling from the very base and snapping his wrist in a vicious little twist just under his son's foreskin.

"Come on, buddy, you can do this." Don's voice was coaxing and toneless, loving and utterly lost.

"Please Daddy, please, please, uunh…" Luke's eyes went wide and his back bowed. His scream pierced the air and Don shuddered to again feel cum rip its way up the tightly gripped cock before it was painting his tongue and lips.

When the last droplet oozed forward to tremble in the soft cup of Luke's foreskin, Don flicked out his tongue to claim it. Then sat up, tucked his son's cock back into his jeans and returned to his side of the cab.

It was quiet in the old industrial park; Don had forgotten how quiet it could be. Hot too, not a breath of wind, he thought to himself, as he rolled down the window. And no such thing as AC when this old truck rolled off the production line. God, he was sweating like a pig, he thought, catching a whiff of pungent male body odour. He licked his lips, enjoying the thick tang of salt he found there. Turning to Luke who was staring out his own window, Don slapped him on the back.

"Right buddy, ready to try again yet?"

Luke met Don's eyes and blinked, shook his head and blinked again. His lean cheeks were flushed and sweaty strands of hair had plastered themselves to his temples and the nape of his neck.

"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. He stopped to clear his throat and returned Don's smile hesitantly. "Yeah, I dunno, I feel a bit better now, I think I can do it."

"Glad to hear it, thought you were going to hulk out on me there for a second," Don joked.

Luke snorted and turning the key in the ignition, fired up the truck and started the U-turn again. Don realised he wasn't wearing his seatbelt - funny, he didn't remember taking it off - and buckled himself in. The urge to whistle rose and he didn't fight it. Somehow, life seemed to be looking up.