'My Fucking Kid!' - gay sex story @ Menonthenet.com's Gay Erotic Stories

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My Fucking Kid!

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I came back from my run sweating profusely and steaming inside. Damn that kid. He was so fucking headstrong! I heard a grunt from the basement and headed downstairs.

There was Danny, sitting back on the bench doing leg presses. His thick muscular thighs filled the leg openings of his thin workout shorts. Large corded calves pushed his feet against the leg plate and his ass muscles tensed as he extended his legs. He gripped handles at the side of bench, his bare, massive chest rising and falling as he pushed the plate slowly outward, then letting it return equally slowly. As he did so, he watched himself in the various mirrors he had bought and attached to the walls. He studiously ignored my presence, and, frankly, it pissed me off.

“I told you to mow the fucking grass,” I barked.

“I’ll do it when I finish my workout.”

“Like hell you will,” I answered. “You’ll do it now! When you’re done with your workout, you’ll hit the shower and sneak out. Just like you always do.”

“Look, man,” Danny explained as he slid off the bench and stood. “I’m 18 and the law says I’m an adult. I don’t have to take your shit anymore.”

I walked over to him and looked up into those cold gray eyes. At 6’ 3” he was a good three inches taller than I. His mother had been such a slut that I once worried about whose kid he really was, but those eyes were mine and I guess that meant so was he. He got his height from his mother’s side. Her brother and father were tall...and flabby fat. I was thankful that he hadn’t gone that route, though it once looked as though he might. Danny had been fairly pudgy when his mother left us, but he took a weight lifting course in high school, got good results, then became a fanatic about it. First, I bought him a set of free weights, then a Bowflex.

I had been drinking heavily the night the infomercial came on. I didn’t add up the total cost over the seven years of payments. Still, I had to admit it had been a good buy. I didn’t work out the way Danny did, but I used it regularly and had added a nice chest to my lean runner’s build. Danny, however, worked out for hours every day. He didn’t do much in the way homework; his grades were poor; he didn’t participate in sports; and he seemed fairly uninterested in girls. All he ever did was work out and it showed. At one point, I suspected steroids, but he didn’t have any significant visible acne, and he ran around in nylon shorts, so most of him was visible. I took a few peeks at him coming out of the shower and saw that he sported the same hefty package I did, with the same egg sized balls, so I relaxed about it.

As I tried to stare him down, I could see that this was going to have to be one of those “lesson days”. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kid. I guess. In my own way. But I believe that any kid should jump when his father says something. God knows I had been scared shitless of mine. He taught me that there was one top dog in any household, and by God, it was going to be me in this one. I wasn’t much for timeouts or “discussing” things. A little pain went a long way in getting the kind of behavior I wanted, not just from Danny but also from his mother before she left us.

According to him, that was why she did it, but I knew better. She left because she finally found a guy with money that she could pussy whip. I gave Danny credit for not falling for that shit. He was never mooning around about some bitch. Hell, he hardly ever dated. I guess that would have taken too much time away from him looking at himself in the mirror. Strangely, I was glad about that. I had his mother knocked up when I was 16 and we were forced to get married by our families. They helped us out until we finished high school, then we were on our own. That meant no college for me, and I was determined that, whatever else happened, Danny would make up for it.

Anyway, I didn’t shy from giving Danny a good whipping when he fucked up or mouthed off. I’m talking about a serious spanking here: pants down, bare-assed, and continuing until he begged me to stop. For one reason or another, it seemed to happen at least once a month. Things changed a bit when he started to sprout up and fill out. He began to take it silently and stopped begging, and that took most of the fun out of it. I guess “fun” is the wrong word. But it began to seem, well, pointless. After Danny was fifteen or so, I stopped the spankings and mostly backhanded him when he smart-mouthed me. Big as he was, I could still knock him on his ass if I tried. Whatever I did to him though, it didn’t seem to work. Little by little, things were getting worse between us.

“Eighteen or not,” I announced, “law or no law, you’ll play by my rules if you live in this house. You don’t pay any rent, so you’ll damn well make some other contributions. It’ll be six months until you graduate from high school. If you want me to pay for community college, you’d better straighten up!”

“Look, Dad,” he responded, “I’m going to finish high school but I’m not going to college. I’ll be heading out to Los Angeles the day after I graduate.”

“And do what?” I laughed. “Lift weights for a living?”

“Well, one thing I won’t be is a cable TV installer.”

“It pays the fucking bills, asshole.”

He was really pissing me off. I stepped forward into his personal space and, as always, he took a step back. I raised my arm across my face, showing him the back of my hand. Then something different happened. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he pursed his lips and delivered a punch to my solar plexus with his right fist. I bent over, exploding shower of spittle into his sweaty chest and down onto his abdomen. Then his left fist met my jaw, and I was suddenly and painfully on my back, hitting my head on the concrete floor.

I don’t know that I was ever completely out, but for a minute or so I couldn’t hear and my vision was blurred. When it cleared, my ears were still ringing. I looked up to see Danny standing astride my chest at nipple level like some mythological Colossus staring down. Oddly, what I noticed most strikingly was that I could see through the leg openings of his shorts. One of his heavy balls had become dislodged from his jock and was hanging loose outside the elastic. Why this made such an impression on me was unclear.

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do in LA, old man?” he sneered. “Let’s just say, I’m going into the entertainment business.” With that he began tensing his muscles in a complex pattern like they do when they pose at one of those muscle shows. I watched in reluctant fascination. At one point he rolled the tension up his left leg from his calf to thigh and up into his left pec. Then it moved to his right pec and down to his right calf. Then it reversed itself, back up the right side and down the left. He pulled off his shorts and turned around. I stared up at\that\muscular ass framed by the elastic of his strap and to the muscular delts in the distance. He repeated the performance. It was even more dramatic with the clenching of those massive hams. I forgot the circumstances and began to marvel. How did he do that?

What was I thinking? I shook my head to clear it. “That and a buck seventy-five will get you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Or maybe free drinks in West Hollywood.” Good one! I thought to myself.

Suddenly, he turned and reached down. “You know, old man, I’m sick and tired of you putting me down and even more sick of you putting your hands on me. It’s about time you found out what it feels like.” He reached down grabbed my T shirt and hauled me roughly to my feet. The shirt ripped down the middle, but the collar held and I found myself on my toes pressed against him with my face four inches from his. He smiled oddly, took a big hock and spat. The combination of snot and spit ran down my cheek.

Danny pulled me over to the weight machine. He took a three quarter stance on the bench, right leg planted on the floor and left leg bent on the cushion. I saw that his cock stuck out two inches beyond the waistband of his jock. That wasn’t much of a surprise. I had noticed that he seemed to be sporting a hardon about half the time. Like father like son. I got hard with just about any provocation: a good workout, just about any amount of exposed flesh of any kind, a stiff breeze up my shorts or even a sweating racehorse. Hell, I found myself getting stiff even in these circumstances.

Danny dragged me across his lap and pulled down on the collar of my T shirt, the only fabric still intact until my head was below the level of the bench. I glanced into one of the many mirrors he had set up to watch his form while he worked out. Reflected in a reflection was a shot of a large muscular man sitting with lean male form in gray nylon shorts stretched, ass-up across the muscled one’s lap. Another of those random thoughts entered my head: What a great ass! Women had been telling me that for years. I bought it, but now I really saw why.

Danny lay his hand on the thin fabric, cupping first one buttock, then the other. Suddenly he raised his hand high and brought it down heavily. Thwip. Then again. And again. Thwip. Thwip. Oh, it stung! It stung a lot, but I knew I was getting off easy. Even the thin nylon of my shorts blunted the force of the blows, as revealed by the softness of the contact sound itself. There was not the sharp, satisfying crack of an open hand on a broad expanse of exposed flesh that always let me know I was applying the discipline with maximum effect. Danny continued. Thwip, Thwip, Thwip. He paused sensing something was wrong, then resumed with more force. THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!

In frustration, he clutched the thin fabric in his hand and tore. The nylon ripped part way along the ass seam, splitting the shorts down the center. Danny reached in and grabbed one of the split edges, his fingertips brushing both of my ass cheeks as he closed his hand, and pulled with all his might. The fabric split all the way down the left leg and across the waist. Gripping at the right leg hole, he tore the back free and fully exposed my ass. Another wrench and he dragged the loose fabric from between our groins, snapping the waistband and pinching my protruding cock in the process. As the slick fabric slid away, it dragged out cocks in to intimate contact, head next to head and trapped in place by the waistbands of our jocks. What a weird feeling.

Once again, Danny spent a few seconds caressing my butt cheeks; then he delivered a slap with a loud crack that reverberated around the room. The pain was, uh, serious. The sound itself was that perfect snap that I always strived for. My stiff cock throbbed in response and so did his. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Jeez, it hurt and my cock, if anything, got harder with each slap. This was heading in a bad direction, with an ending in sight that would be even more embarrassing that what had taken place already. Sure, I could wrench myself free of him temporarily, but I had little hope of escaping, and our earlier encounter had made quite clear that he could now take me down whenever he chose.

I remembered how Danny used to get me to stop. It was worth a try. “All right, Danny. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I won’t touch you anymore. I’m sorry.”

The blows kept landing on my ass. CRACK! CRACK! God they hurt! I wanted him to stop but, then again, I didn’t. I clamped down on my cock trying to contain it. This didn’t make sense. I couldn’t possibly be in agony and ecstasy at the same time. And why the fuck wasn’t he stopping? I was paying by the rules. Our rules. My rules.

“Please, Danny. Stop. I won’t ever touch you again. Really! I promise. I won’t hassle you. I won’t criticize. I mean it! Pleeeze stop!”

The assault continued unabated and I fell into silent defeat, devoting all my energy toward containing my unwanted impulses. Suddenly, there was a rush of liquid between our groins. It wasn’t me; it was him. His wicked slaps were timed to each ejaculation. As his spurts began to diminish, I felt I was home free and began to relax. Bad move. Suddenly, I myself began to erupt in huge spasms. Danny now timed his whacks with my activity. It was by far the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. It wasn’t that I no longer noticed the pain. It was an incorporation of the pain into the whole shebang. Without the pain, it would have been an ordinary rub job, a kinky lap dance. Encompassing the pain and the pleasure added an intensity I had never before experienced.

Danny went on with the assault long past the point at which I was fully drained, but eventually he stopped. Whether it was because he recognized the futility or because he simply tired, I’ll probably never know. I lay there across his lap for a good five minutes, both of us panting heavily, saying nothing. I looked at us in the multiple reflections. My ass was cherry red, far worse than Danny’s had ever looked after I disciplined him. The pain was now severe and the throbbing was not compensated by any other intense stimulation. Even so, it was tolerable in retrospect of the events that caused it.

Danny turned slightly and dumped me painfully onto the floor. I turned and looked up at him. There was a massive amount of mixed cum from both of our loads on his left hip, jock waistband and upper thigh, all the more impressive when one considered that half of our loads was on my own stomach.. It began to thin out and run down his thigh.

“Jesus, Danny,” I offered., “You didn’t have to ...”

“Shut up and clean me up. Fast.”

Humiliating as the prospect was, it didn’t seem like an opportune time to try to regain the high ground. Searching for something to use as a towel, I found the shreds of my running shorts lying at his feet. Danny grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to my knees.

“Not like that,” he sneered. “Use you mouth, Bitch. Clean me up with your tongue.”

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head toward his cum slathered hip. I resisted, but those powerful arms drew my face into his groin. The spunk smeared on my cheek. I still remembered how my cum had tasted when I tried it as a kid. It hadn’t been that bad. I let my tongue out and brought in some of the jism. I don’t know whether it had changed over the years, or whether it was because it was mixed with Danny’s or whether my own tastes had changed, but it was quite a bit better than “not bad”. By this time, it had drained down his left leg nearly to the knee. I grabbed that tree trunk with both hands and took a long upward slurp to stop the drainage.

“Now you’re doing it right,” Danny said. “You love that cum, don’t you,? Daddy”

I continued working my way up the hip, when he pulled my head roughly away from his body. “Answer me, when I ask you a question, bitch! Do you love eating that cum?”

“Yes, Danny. I love it.”

“Doesn’t sound like you do. You never appreciate anything I give you.”

That sounded familiar. “I do, Danny! I love it! Please let me finish.”

He released my head completely. I reached around and grabbed the young man’s muscular hams. I attacked the open expanse of his hip until it was free of ejaculate. What remained was the gob clinging to the head and that which had settled along the crease made where shank was pressed against his ab muscles by the waistband of his jock. Somehow, I could tell that this was mostly from Danny. I ran my tongue along the groove until it met the fat sloppy head. I turned my tongue into a scoop as I sucked down the “Cream of Danny” soup. When the head was completely clean, I found that I didn’t want to stop. I opened my mouth and tried to take it in. Danny shoved me back painfully on my sore buttocks.

“That’s enough for you, Daddy. I’m saving that load until later.”

“I, uh.... I don’t know what I was doing there,” I apologized.

“You were trying to blow me, old man, or didn’t you notice?” he said. “Look, you stay down here and think about things. Don’t come upstairs until after I finish my shower and leave the house. I don’t want to see your face for a while. Later on, we’ll talk about the change s that are gonna happen around here. Understand, old man?”

It was almost word for word what I would have said to him after a spanking. “Yes, Danny.”

I lay on my side crying weakly while listening to the pipes sing and gurgle with his shower water. After about half and hour, I heard the front door slam and cautiously climbed the steps. He was gone. I went up to the master bathroom and looked at myself in the mirrors. A dark mottling was beginning to form on my ass under the still crimson inflammation. I knew that it would soon turn dark red, then eventually purple and black. It would be month before it went away completely. I would have to take a couple of days off. I was in no shape to climb any utility poles.

I drew a cold bath and lay there soaking my bruised body for a good two hours, refreshing the water periodically as it became tepid. It helped quite a bit. Afterward I went to the master bedroom and sprawled ass up on top of the California king, letting the air conditioning caress my burning butt cheeks, then fell asleep in a mix of worry and excitement about the “changes” Danny had in mind.

The End

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