I walked into Mark's house like I always did, no knock, just straight through the side door. It was supposed to be a quick beer run before the game, but Mark texted last minute that he got called into work. His dad, Rick, was the only one home. Rick was forty-eight, built like he still lifted every day, thick arms covered in dark hair, a heavy gut that hung over his belt but made him look solid instead of soft. I was twenty-two, still living like a broke college kid even though I had graduated, and I had jerked off more than once thinking about what Rick's cock might look like.
Rick was in the kitchen in just a pair of old gray sweatpants, no shirt. "Mark bailed?" he asked, voice low and rough like he had been yelling at a game all afternoon.
"Yeah. Said he'd be back late. I can head out if you want."
"Stay. Grab a beer from the fridge." He popped the top off his own and took a long pull. His eyes stayed on me longer than they needed to. I felt it in my gut, that same pull I got when I watched dad-on-son porn late at night, the kind where the older guy calls the younger one "boy" while he bends him over.
We drank in the living room. The game was on but neither of us paid much attention. Rick stretched out on the couch, legs spread wide, sweatpants doing nothing to hide the thick outline of his dick. It was half-hard already. I couldn't stop staring.
"You keep looking at it like you want to taste it," he said flat out. No smile. Just the words.
I swallowed. "Maybe I do."
Rick set his beer down. "Then get over here and suck your dad's cock, boy."
I dropped to my knees between his legs. The sweatpants came down easy. His cock was thick, veined, the head already wet. I wrapped my hand around it and licked the slit, tasting salt and skin. Rick grunted and pushed my head down until my nose was buried in his pubes. I gagged but kept going, throat working around him while he held me there.
"That's it. Take it all the way. Good fucking boy." His voice was pure filth now. "You came over here hoping I'd use that mouth, didn't you? Hoping your best friend's dad would turn you into his personal cumdump."
I moaned around his cock and nodded as much as I could. Spit ran down my chin. Rick fucked my face in steady thrusts, balls slapping my jaw. When he pulled out I was gasping, lips swollen.
"Strip," he ordered. I got naked fast. He turned me around and bent me over the arm of the couch, one big hand spreading my ass. A thick finger pushed inside dry at first, then he spat on it and worked two in. "Tight little hole. Gonna stretch you open on this dad dick."
He lined up and shoved in. No slow start.
One hard thrust and he was buried to the balls. I cried out, pain and heat mixing until it turned into raw need. Rick didn't wait. He started pounding, hips slapping my ass, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other reaching under to jerk my cock in time with his thrusts.
"Fuck, you're taking it like you were made for it," he growled. "Tell me whose hole this is."
"Yours, Dad," I gasped. "It's your hole."
"Damn right it is." He fucked harder, the couch creaking under us. Every stroke dragged over my prostate until my legs shook. I came first, shooting across the couch cushion while he kept driving into me. Rick followed soon after, burying himself deep and flooding me with thick pulses of cum. He stayed inside, grinding slow while he caught his breath.
We didn't move for a minute. Then he pulled out and watched his load leak down my thighs. "Clean it up," he said, and I turned around to suck him soft, tasting myself and his cum mixed together.
Rick pulled me up and kissed me rough, tongue pushing into my mouth. "Next time Mark's late, you come straight here. Understood?"
"Yes, Dad."
He smirked, already getting hard again against my stomach. "Good boy. Now get on your back. I'm not done with that ass yet."
