The house was quiet except for the low rumble of my dad’s buddies laughing in the den. I was twenty-one, home from school, and I knew better than to linger near that room when they were drinking and playing cards. But I couldn’t stay away. Their deep voices carried down the hall, thick with beer and old stories, and every time one of them said my dad’s name I felt my cock twitch in my shorts.
I stood in the doorway pretending to grab a soda. Three of them looked up at once: Rick, broad and gray at the temples; Mike, still built like the linebacker he used to be; and Tom, the quiet one with the heavy hands. My dad was dealing, but his eyes flicked to me and stayed there a second too long.
“Get over here, kid,” Rick said. “Your old man’s losing again. Maybe you can bring him luck.”
I walked in. The air smelled like whiskey and sweat. Mike pulled out the chair beside him and patted the seat. When I sat, his thigh pressed against mine under the table and didn’t move. Cards slapped down. Someone poured me a shot. The game went on, but the talk changed.
“Boy’s grown up,” Tom muttered, staring at the way my T-shirt stretched across my chest. “Looks just like his daddy did at that age.”
My dad didn’t tell them to shut up. Instead he leaned back, watching me with a half-smile that made my stomach flip. Rick’s hand landed on my knee and slid higher, rough palm hot through denim. Nobody said a word when his fingers reached the bulge in my shorts and squeezed.
“Fuck, he’s hard already,” Rick growled.
They didn’t ask. They didn’t need to. Mike stood, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me toward the couch. My dad stayed at the table, eyes dark, stroking himself through his jeans while his best friends stripped me. My shirt hit the floor. Shorts and briefs followed.
I was naked in front of all of them, cock leaking, face burning.
Tom dropped to his knees first. His mouth was wet and greedy, sucking me down to the root in one slow push. I groaned loud enough that my dad chuckled from across the room. Rick moved behind me, spreading my ass, spitting on my hole, then working two thick fingers inside without warning. The stretch burned sweet. Mike fed me his cock, heavy and veined, sliding over my tongue until I gagged.
They used me like they’d been waiting years. Tom sucked harder, cheeks hollowing, while Rick finger-fucked me open, adding a third digit, twisting until I pushed back on his hand. Mike held my head and fucked my throat in short, steady strokes, praising me in that low voice: “That’s it, take it, good boy.”
My dad finally joined. He stood over me, unzipped, and let his cock fall heavy against my cheek. “You always wanted this,” he said, almost gentle. “Open up.”
I did. He slid in beside Mike’s dick, both heads stretching my lips, rubbing together on my tongue. The taste of them mixed, salty and familiar in a way that made my balls ache. Rick pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock, thick and relentless, shoving in until his hips met my ass. I cried out around the two cocks in my mouth.
They rotated. Mike took my ass next, pounding deep while Tom fucked my throat. Rick sat on the couch and pulled me onto his lap, guiding my hole down onto his shaft again. My dad stood in front of me, feeding me his cock while his friends held me open and used me. Sweat dripped. Skin slapped. Someone spat on my hole again for lube and pushed back in.
I came first, untouched, shooting across Rick’s stomach while Mike railed me from behind. They didn’t stop. They kept going, switching holes, making me ride one while sucking another, until the room filled with the wet sounds of fucking and low, filthy praise.
When they finished they painted me—cum on my tongue, across my chest, deep inside my ass until it leaked down my thighs. My dad was last. He bent me over the arm of the couch and fucked me slow and deep, one hand on the back of my neck, whispering how tight I still felt even after his buddies had wrecked me. He came with a grunt, flooding me, then pulled out and watched it drip.
They left me there on the couch, used and shaking, cum cooling on my skin. My dad tossed me a towel and ruffled my hair like nothing had changed.
“Same time next week,” he said.
I already knew I’d be there.
