Jake slammed the cabin door behind him, snow still melting on his boots. "Dad, you in here?" His voice cracked with that same hungry edge it always got when they were alone.
His father, Mark, stepped out from the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweats. At 45 he was still thick with muscle, chest hair dark and silver at the edges. "Lock it," he said. Jake twisted the deadbolt and kicked off his boots. The moment he straightened up, Mark grabbed him by the jaw and shoved him against the wall.
"You drove four hours for this?" Mark growled, already palming the hard bulge in Jake's jeans. "My 22-year-old boy showing up hard as fuck for his daddy's cock again."
Jake moaned, grinding into the hand. "Been thinking about it since last month. Couldn't jerk off enough. Needed the real thing."
Mark yanked Jake's shirt over his head and dropped to his knees. He tore the button fly open, shoved the denim down, and swallowed Jake's cock in one wet motion. Jake's head thunked back against the wall. "Fuck, Dad—yeah, suck it just like that."
Mark worked him rough, one hand gripping Jake's balls, the other reaching up to twist a nipple. Spit ran down Jake's shaft. Every few strokes Mark pulled off to slap the wet cock against his own cheek. "This what you came for, boy? Your daddy's mouth on your dick?"
"More," Jake panted. "Want your cock in me."
Mark stood, shoved his sweats down, and let his thick, veined dick spring free. He spun Jake around, bent him over the arm of the couch, and spread his cheeks. "Look at that hole already twitching." He spat directly on it, rubbed the head of his cock through the slick, then pushed in slow but steady until his balls rested against Jake's ass.
Jake groaned loud and long. "Goddamn, Dad, you're splitting me open."
Mark started fucking him in hard, steady strokes. The cabin filled with the sound of skin slapping and Jake's broken moans. "Take it," Mark grunted. "Been saving this load for my boy. Gonna breed that tight ass."
He reached around and jerked Jake's cock in time with his thrusts. Jake came first, shooting across the couch cushions with a shout. Mark kept pounding through it, then buried himself deep and unloaded, growling "Fuck, take Daddy's cum" as he pulsed inside him.
They didn't move for a minute. Mark stayed buried, breathing hard against Jake's back. When he finally pulled out, cum leaked down Jake's thigh. Mark scooped it up with two fingers and fed it to him. Jake sucked the fingers clean without being told.
"Shower," Mark said. "Then I'm putting you on your back and doing it again slower."
Jake grinned, already half-hard again. "Whatever you want, Daddy."
They fucked twice more that night—once in the shower with Jake's legs wrapped around Mark's waist, once in the bed with Mark holding Jake's wrists above his head and talking filthy the whole time. By morning Jake was sore, marked, and smiling like an idiot while Mark made coffee like nothing had happened.
Before he left, Mark pulled him close at the door. "Next month.
Same weekend. Don't be late, boy."
Jake kissed him hard, tasting coffee and last night's cum. "Wouldn't miss it."
