I never planned for it to happen, but once my son turned twenty-one and moved back home after college, the tension built like a slow fuse. I'm forty-eight, bi since my twenties, married to his mom but craving cock on the side. Jake looks just like me at that age—broad shoulders, thick thighs, that same hungry look in his eyes. One night after too many beers, I caught him jerking off in the living room to some bi porn on his phone. Instead of walking away, I sat down next to him.
"Need a hand with that?" I said, voice low and rough.
He froze, cock throbbing in his fist, but he didn't stop. "Dad… fuck, this is wrong."
"Wrong feels good sometimes," I growled, reaching over to wrap my hand around his shaft. It was hot, veiny, and already leaking. I stroked him slow at first, then faster, my own dick straining against my jeans. Jake moaned and grabbed mine through the fabric, freeing it. We sat there side by side, father and son, pumping each other's cocks like it was the most natural thing.
I leaned in and kissed him hard, tongues sliding, tasting beer and need. "Suck your dad's dick," I ordered. He dropped to his knees without hesitation. His mouth was wet and eager, lips stretching around my thick head. He gagged when I pushed deeper, but he took it, slurping and bobbing while I held his head. "That's it, boy. Take every inch. Your mom never sucked me like this."
Jake pulled off, spit dripping down his chin. "I want you to fuck me, Dad. Been thinking about your cock since I was legal."
I hauled him up, bent him over the couch, and spread his ass. His hole was tight and pink. I spit on it, rubbed my cockhead against the rim, then pushed in. He yelled as I sank balls-deep in one thrust, his walls clenching around me. I fucked him raw and deep, hips slapping his cheeks, reaching around to jerk his cock in time with my strokes. "You like your bi dad's dick stretching your hole? Tell me."
"Yes, fuck yes," he gasped. "Pound me harder."
I did, slamming into him until he shot ropes across the cushions. His orgasm milked me, and I flooded his guts with hot cum, groaning like an animal. We stayed locked together, panting, my seed leaking out around my shaft.
After that night it became our secret. Mornings in the shower, him on his knees swallowing my load before work.
Afternoons bent over the kitchen table, me eating his ass then railing him until he begged. Evenings with his mom in the next room, we'd sneak quickies—me breeding him quiet and filthy in the garage, his moans muffled against my hand. I taught him how to ride me, how to take it from behind, how to swallow every drop like a good son. The taboo only made it hotter. We were both bi, both addicted, both knowing this was our private world of sweat, cum, and forbidden pleasure that never had to end.
