I slammed the cabin door behind us, the rain still hammering the roof. Dad stood there dripping wet, his soaked t-shirt clinging to his broad chest and thick arms, nipples hard from the cold. My cock twitched in my jeans the second I saw him like that. We were both adults, both knowing exactly why we’d come up here alone.
“Strip, boy,” he growled, voice low and rough. “Get those fucking clothes off before you catch cold.”
I peeled off my shirt, then shoved my jeans down. My dick sprang out, already half-hard and leaking. Dad watched, eyes dark, as he yanked his own shirt over his head. His body was solid, hairy, with a thick trail leading down to the bulge in his wet pants. He kicked off his boots and dropped his jeans, freeing that heavy cock I’d been thinking about for months. It hung thick and veiny, balls low and full.
“Fuck, look at you,” he said, stepping closer. His hand wrapped around my dick without warning, stroking once, firm and dirty. “Hard for your old man already.”
I groaned and grabbed his cock in return, feeling it swell in my fist. “Been wanting this since you caught me jerking off last month, Dad.
Wanted your dick in my mouth.”
He pushed me to my knees on the rug. “Then open up, son. Suck Daddy’s cock like you mean it.”
I took him deep, lips stretching around that fat head, tongue working the underside. He tasted salty, musky, pure man. Dad’s hand gripped the back of my head, thrusting slow and steady into my throat. “That’s it. Gag on it. Get it nice and wet for your ass.”
I choked and drooled, spit running down his shaft as I worked him. My own cock throbbed untouched, dripping onto the floor. He pulled out after a minute, strings of saliva connecting us, then hauled me up and spun me around.
“Bend over the table,” he ordered.
I did, spreading my legs. His rough fingers found my hole, rubbing spit into it before pushing two inside. I hissed at the stretch but pushed back, hungry. “Finger-fuck me, Dad. Get me ready for that cock.”
He worked me open fast and filthy, scissoring, curling to hit that spot that made my legs shake. When he pulled out I felt empty, needy. Then the blunt head of his dick pressed against my hole.
“Beg for it,” he said, voice tight.
“Fuck me, Dad. Shove that big cock in your son’s ass. Breed me.”
He drove in with one hard thrust, burying himself balls-deep. I cried out, the burn mixing with raw pleasure as he filled me. He didn’t wait, just started pounding, hips slapping against my ass, heavy balls swinging. Each thrust knocked the breath out of me.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted. “Taking Daddy’s dick so good. Been saving this load for you.”
I reached down and jerked myself in time with his strokes, precum slicking my hand. The cabin filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and our filthy moans. He reached around, grabbed my throat, pulled me upright against his chest while still fucking me.
“Tell me whose hole this is,” he demanded in my ear.
“Yours, Dad. Your son’s slut hole. Use it.”
He slammed harder, then pulled out and flipped me onto my back on the table. He hooked my legs over his shoulders and drove back in, deeper than before. I watched his face, sweat dripping, jaw clenched as he railed me. My cock bounced against my stomach with every thrust.
“Gonna fill you up,” he warned, pace getting erratic. “Gonna pump my cum deep in my boy.”
“Do it,” I begged. “Cum in me, Dad.”
He buried himself to the root and came with a guttural growl, hot pulses flooding my insides. The feeling pushed me over; I shot hard, ropes of cum splattering my chest and face. He kept grinding through it, milking every drop into me.
When he finally pulled out, cum leaked from my stretched hole. He scooped some up with two fingers and fed it to me. I sucked them clean, tasting us both.
“Round two in the shower,” he said, already half-hard again. “Then you’re riding me on the couch. We’ve got all weekend, son.”
I grinned, legs still shaking. “Yes, sir.”
