Teach Me, Daddy

You've always been very good looking. It's gotten you far in life, your chiselled jaw, your fantastic hair, your strong body. The fitted suits and designer shirts don't hurt either.

Your wife, Monica, is stunning. Her soft olive skin, and her deep dark eyes make you want to grab her and draw her close. Her hips, her ass, and her breasts curve in ways that even after years of marriage catch you off guard, and your cock twitches with excitement when she enters the room. She's the CEO of the largest employer in town, she's smart and commanding. You know she only owns sexy underwear, and that she always matches what she's wearing underneath with the suits she wears over them. When she gets home from the gym after work, freshly showered, the two of you laugh and enjoy a drink before starting dinner.

If the kids aren't around Monica takes the opportunity to give you a quick blow job. Techniques she's perfected over the years mean she can control exactly how long it takes to make you cum, depending on her schedule. On weekend nights, the sex is not just still fantastic, it seems to be getting better, even after 24 years of marriage. You love finding your head between her legs, licking and fingering her warm musty wetness.

Your twin son and daughter have just turned eighteen, they're seniors in high school. Your daughter, Kristin, a brunette with a killer smile, is the head cheerleader and her young fresh body is taking after her mother. You do your best not to notice, but there are times you slip. How many times have your eyes lingered a little too long on her boyshorts while she's lounging on the couch, or on her cleavage when she wears a tank top to the dinner table?

Kristen is very popular, and has had many "study dates" in her room with handsome classmates. You've made sure they're all still in high school, she's not dating any college guys until she herself is in college next year. Then there's really nothing you can do about it.

You often find yourself just outside her door during her study dates. You can hear the kissing, the zippers unzipping, fabric being cast aside, the soft and muffled moans of your daughter feeling pleasure from young and virile men. Your cock swells and you imagine what she must look like, her legs spread, her head back and her back arching, panting as her dates explore her body.

Your blonde son, Calvin, is more reserved, and studies hard. He is skinny and pale, and has always been very obedient. He does his homework as quickly as he can at school, so that most afternoons he can do chores around the house. Vacuuming, dusting, laundry, prepping ingredients for dinner. You don't know what made him so eager to please. He often plays video games while you and your wife cook dinner, and his nights are spent on D&D campaigns in his best friend's basement.

On one particular spring day, when the flowers buds are just starting to open, and winter feels like it's finally gone for the year, you feel like something is not quite right at work. Samantha, your secretary -who you've always been friendly with- came into work today with her red hair back in a tight bun making her long neck quite exposed, slipping into the loose collar of her blouse. Now, to describe the collar as "loose" is a little bit of an understatement. In reality, her blouse is, in a word, unbuttoned. Her full breasts are boosted up with a very flattering push-up bra, the top of which you can see peeking out from beneath the soft light fabric of her blouse. Its red lace trim is holding her round breasts breasts back. Her blouse is pulled tight against her body, and trails into a very short black micro skirt.

Her outfit is wildly inappropriate for work, and when you first see it, you don't know what to do...and you stare a little too long. There's a fire behind her eyes you feel like you've never seen before. Sure, you two have had flirty moments over the few years she's been working under you...uh, I mean for you. But you're married, and she's your subordinate, so you always kept things professional. Throughout the morning, she's finding ways to bend over at the hips, either exposing her deep cleavage when she's facing you, or a pair of hot pink panties under her skirt when she's facing away from you. She's lightly touching your shoulder whenever she brings in paperwork. She's giggling and flirting with all the younger men in the office, but then looking over at you, with her mouth slightly open, her pouting lips glistening with lip gloss.

By early afternoon you've had enough, and you ask her to come to your office and close the door.

"Samantha," you say quietly, "I need to talk to you about the way you're dressed today."

"Do you like it?" Samantha asks with a grin which disarms you.

You swallow hard and take a deep breath. "It's inappropriate for work attire."

She cocks her head and looks genuinely confused. "You don't like it. I don't understand, what's inappropriate about it?"

Your heart is beating harder than it should be. You've reprimanded your employees before. "It's- your...Look, there's no other way to say it, your skirt is too short," she looks surprised and tugs at the bottom of her skirt, "and your blouse needs to be buttoned more."

Her hands run up her body, over her breasts to the top closed button of her blouse. She looks up at you, and slowly begins to walk towards you. Her fingers slip the button out of the hole that was holding it. "What's wrong with my blouse?"

"You are distracting several coworkers, Samantha," you're doing your best to keep it together as she slides up to the desk and props herself up on the edge, her blouse now open enough that the entire bra is exposed. Your eyes get momentarily lost in the pattern of the cups as you take in the shape of these perfect breasts...the curve of her cleavage, the smooth soft lines of her collar bone. You really should take your eyes off her chest, but they would naturally want to look down, and you know you'd see up her skirt, which could be the end of any self-control.

"If you don't like my blouse, I can take it off, sir."

Snap out of it. "Are you insane? What if someone comes in here?!"

"Don't worry, I locked the door when I came in." She leans down toward you, her lips inching toward your ear. One hand is now on your thigh, slowly sliding up toward your swelling cock. "I've wanted you to fuck me since the day you interviewed me for this job." she whispers.

You jump up out of your seat. You are on autopilot. You put on your jacket and coat. You grab your briefcase. Samantha is genuinely startled. She was certain you would easily give in to her advances.

You make up some excuse to your colleague as you make your way out the door to your car about taking a half-day for a...you're pretty sure you said "dentist's appointment...but you have a sinking feeling you may have said "doughnut appointment."

You drive home. Your head is swimming. How many times have you fantasized about Samantha doing almost exactly what she just did? I mean you did the right thing, leaving, shutting it down...but your imagination swells with scenarios of how much fun it would have been to fuck her.

You get home, and the house is quiet. No one seems to be home. You pour yourself some whiskey and you flop on the couch. Will you tell your wife? You can't tell if that's the right thing to do or the stupidest thing you could do. Your nerves are calming down. Your breath is returning to its normal pace. Then you hear someone upstairs.

You quietly make your way up the stairs. The sound is coming from your son's room. You slowly open the door, and without thinking you yell out "Jesus Christ!"

Calvin, diminutive, skinny and pale, is standing, looking at himself in the closet's full-length mirror, dressed in your daughter's cheerleading uniform. He's twirling back and forth, so the skirt lifts into the air, and his tight white undies peek out from underneath.

Well, that's what he was doing when you walked in, now he's looking at you startled, trying in vain to cover his body up with his arms that are bare from the shoulder down. His midriff between the tight top and short pleated skirt is also bare. His long legs emerge out of his cute undies under the skirt.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask.

"Daddy, it's not what it looks like. I was doing laundry, and I was folding Kristin's back-up uniform. I don't know why, but I felt like trying it on, just to see what it looked like." Calvin is red in the face.

You don't know whether or not you believe what he says, but you grab him by his arm, and pull him towards you. You sit down on his bed, and force him over your knees. "You may be eighteen, but you're not too old for me to spank you!" You pull the skirt up, and yank his tight white undies down to his knees.

"No, Daddy." he pleads, but your hand is already crashing down on his butt cheek. The cracking slap is as deafening as Calvin's yelp.

You spank him hard a second time, and your arm raises automatically and crashes down on his ass. And again and again. Calvin's yelps have died down to punctuated whimpers, as he takes your slaps.

So many thoughts are racing through your mind as you mindlessly strike your boy's ass...Samantha and her advances. How your son's whimpers sound a lot like your daughter's muffled moans. The roommate you had in college who was also skinny and pale who you'd make out with when you and he were drunk. How cute and round your son's ass cheeks are, and how much more red they're getting with each spank. How hard your cock has gotten with little Calvin on top of your lap. You could spank him for hours, but the blind pent up pressure is subsiding.

A few moments pass and then your son looks over his shoulder, "Daddy what are you doing?"

You look down and your large hand has come to rest on his right ass cheek. It feels warm and you've started massaging it. Startled, you pull your hand away, but then Calvin catches it, and brings it back to his cute little butt. Once your large hand is back on him, he presses your fingers back into his flesh and closes his eyes in pleasure.

Both hands begin to massage and knead your son's soft round rear. You can hear his breath get deeper.

Your briefs feel so tight against your bulging cock.

You raise your hand to your mouth and spit. Your hand finds Calvin's little hole between his cheeks, and slathers your saliva all over it and your cute little son moans. Several fingers are circling and massaging his tiny asshole. One hand slides down the underside of his balls, and the tips of your fingers brush his cock, which you can't see, but can tell is quite hard.

Your hand raises and cracks down on your son's ass again. His yelp bounces off his bedroom walls. You rub the sensitive skin of his butt cheek, and your slippery thumb finds its way back against Calvin's hole.

You rub it lightly....then harder, until his tightness gives way a little, and the tip of your thumb enters him. "Yes Daddy!" he yelps. You bring it out and plunge it back in. Out and in, out and in, your thumb going a little deeper each time. His moans are following your thumb's pace.

"Alright," your passion has completely subsided now, and you realize you are fingering your son in his bedroom. This isn't right. You put your son on the floor, his white undies now at his ankles, loosely binding them together. His erection is pushing up the fabric of the skirt he's wearing, "pull your undies back up."

"No Daddy, please," your son pleads on the floor between your spread legs, "that felt so good. Will you teach me how to pleasure a man?"

"No, this is wrong." you say, "we can't do this."

"Please Daddy!" he begs, his hands grab your legs, "Please teach me, Daddy." His hands slide higher up your thighs. He smiles when they find your hardness beneath the fabric, "I want to know how to make your cock feel good."

Without thinking you unbuckle your belt, pull down your pants and briefs, and your large hard cock is there, right in front of your kneeling son.

"Touch it, Calvin."

"Y-yes Daddy." by the way he approaches your cock you know it's his first. His long delicate fingers lightly and clumsily start at the base of your shaft, where it meets your balls, and instead of confidently wrapping around your cock, they lightly fumble their way up and reach your sensitive head. His fingers lightly slide back down your shaft

Calvin's eyes are fixed on his Daddy's cock. He's studying it. Each stroke is getting a little more confident, but he's still being too careful with it. You're getting a little frustrated and a little disappointed.

"Is this your first cock, son?"

He looks up at you and nods, ashamed.

"Let me show you." but instead of demonstrating on your cock how you like to stroke yourself, you reach down between his legs.

Brushing the fabric of your daughter's cheerleading skirt aside, you get a first glimpse of your son's cock erect. It is surprisingly bigger than you expected. His light pubic hair is soft and cute.

Your hands reach under Calvin's balls and massage them for a moment, his moans are high-pitched and stilted. Your hand doesn't linger long, instead it comes to the top of his cock and your fingers wrap around just below the head and you start to stroke with a confident rhythmic gait. The pressure you apply lets the skin shift a little with each stroke.

Calvin's moans are so sure and loud you know he's completely lost in the feeling of his daddy stroking his cock. Every few strokes you bring your palm up so it engulfs the head, and his moans get even louder. His panting is inches from your cock, and you can feel your son's hot breath on you.

Then it happens. Your son screams and seizes up. He cums hard, and your son's gooey slippery cum splashes perfectly against your sensitive balls and cock. Three spurts hit your cock, and then some more cum dribbles out of his head.

"Good boy," you whisper into Calvin's ear, "Now you try, son."

He's panting and sweaty from cumming hard, lost in his own world, so you grab his wrists, and place his hands back on your cock, which is now covered in his cum. It makes his fingers slip and slide so easily over your cock, and soon he's getting the hang of it.

Your son's delicate hands, wrapped around your throbbing slippery cock make you feel so good, and you give out a low guttural moan. He knows he's making you feel good, so he keeps stroking. He squeezes a little when he's at the top of your shaft, and he twists his wrist a bit as he strokes down your long hard shaft. "Good boy." you repeat.

Your hips start to buck up with the rhythm of his strokes, he's gotten into a good pace. You feel pressure building throughout your cock. There's one lesson left to teach your son before you cum.

You grab the back of Calvin's head, and you pull him between your legs. His lips are already open, so your cock slides easily into his warm mouth. He's tasting his own cum, and you wonder if it's for the first time.

You figure, if it's his first time stroking another man's cock, he's probably never sucked one either, so you never give him the chance to try or explore. You lean forward and still holding his head, fuck your son's pretty mouth. There's nothing gentle about it...you fuck his mouth like you would have fucked your secretary this afternoon...like you imagine the hot young boys your daughter brings home want to fuck her. Forcefully, and only thinking about your own pleasure.

Your son Calvin looks up at you as your cock lunges deep past his lips, his big round watering eyes staring into yours, and it sends you over the edge.

You cum hard into his mouth, and the force startles him. Calvin's head cocks back and your cock pops out with a wad of your first shot. Cum is dribbling down his chin as your second load gushes out of your hard cock against the chest of your daughter's cheerleading top. A third stream of cum hits the fabric as well. A fourth gushes down onto your son's bare tummy.

Your son is covered in your cum.

Just at that moment, your heart sinks as you and your son's heads dart to the door of his bedroom. Your daughter, Kristin has just walked in asking, "Calvin, do you know where my other cheerleading outfit is?" before stopping in shock at the scene she's walked into.

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