From Fiction to Fact

I also could not deny the draw of having his baby maker in my mouth. In those moments when I was on my knees between his spread legs, it was less about sex and more about worshipping my father's phallus. I had never been a size queen so his large cock didn't hold any special thrill that way. I loved it for the fact that it was the dick that had delivered his seed into my mother, the cock that had fucked me into existence. There was something special about paying homage to his being my father by servicing his cock that was indescribable and we both got off on the taboo of it. While licking, kissing and sucking his hardness, we'd banter back and forth sharing words from father to son and son to father. And for as much as he preferred having me fuck his ass, he admitted he enjoyed mounting me and fucking his load into my ass because of the possessive nature of it. He liked telling me that by impregnating my mother, he had given a piece of himself to make me so, as my creator, he could do with me as he wanted. I found it so incredibly arousing to have his large body on top of mine, pressing me into the mattress, pumping his hard cock into my ass. With my head barely coming up to his shoulders, I was surrounded by him, completely submissive to his needs as he took his pleasure. There was little better than feeling the rumble of his moans and groans in his chest just before he filled my ass with more of his DNA. That's not to say I was completely submissive to him, I wasn't. But he was my father and I was his son and we both came to agree that it afforded him certain rights.

Over four months after we first had sex, I received notification of a new story. It was not until then that I realized he had not posted anything new during the intervening time most likely due to the fact that he had been too busy fucking both me and my mother. When I began to read it, I saw that it was a recounting of our first time in the hotel room. I read it remembering every sound, scent and touch that he described. Even though the memory of that night was arousing, what really made my dick hard was reading his side of the story, his thoughts. His description of my cock as something any man would be happy to possess and that he, as my father, was proud to see filled me with a warmth of pride and arousal. He described the taste and smell of it as manly in its pungent muskiness and enhanced by the bitterness of my precum. The fact that he didn't want to release his cock from my mouth despite begging me to fuck him made my dick twitch. Reading about the thrill he felt when I finally penetrated him matched the sensation I had felt fucking him the first time. It was a mix of excitement and fear that was heightened by arousal, desire and how forbidden the act was. He had told me some of these things when we talked but reading how deeply he had felt them made it all seem much more real. I couldn't believe how well he had memorialized the event and was happy he had gotten as much enjoyment from it.

I sent him a message telling him how great the story was and, as if I was still the anonymous fan, asked if he had more stories to share. When he replied he told me that he had many more to share. He also suggested that I should write up a few of my own experiences to share, that it would be hot to read about a father-son pairing from the son's point of view.

So I did.