This story and its characters are fictional.
It is sexual in nature, with an incestuous and kinky theme. If this is offensive to you, please do not read further. If you are under legal age to read this material please do not read further.
THE SON RETURNS
I was driving to the Greyhound bus station to pick up my son. My wife had walked out on me 15 years ago.
I remember the day very vividly.
Our sink was leaking and the plumber was fixing it. My wife was at work and my 3 year old son, Matt was at the breakfast table making a mess of a snack laid out for him. As the hairy hunk of a plumber, stripped off his shirt, worked under the sink, I was helping him by passing him the tools. Every time I passed the tools I allowed my hand to stray and stroke his crotch. Before we knew it, his cock was out of his pants and I was greedily sucking at the huge organ, in full view of my son, who was gurgling and enjoying himself, throwing pieces of bread all over the place.
In walked my wife. She let out a shattering scream, picked up Matt and fled the room. 10 minutes later she had left the house and I have seen neither my wife nor Matt since.
I later heard she had married a high school football coach who had turned a junkie. He treated her very badly and she had to work double shifts to take care of all the house expenses and bring up her son.
I am an average looking guy, 5'10". At 42, I had a fairly well maintained, worked out physique. In the 15 years I'd become a fairly successful businessman and lived a very good life. I dealt in sports equipment. I had a fancy house with a swimming pool and drove a BMW. And I also led a secret life. I was not into cruising on the net, but spent many an exciting evening at the various truck stops. I would drive for miles ^Ö not in my BMW, but in a battered pickup I also owned - to get to get to a different truck-stop every evening. I had become an insatiable truck-stop slut.
My life was thrown into disarray a couple of days ago when I got a call from a young man who identified himself as Matt. I gathered that my ex-wife and her husband had met with a fatal accident a few years earlier. Matt was left alone. He stayed with my wife's parents for a while, spent all the cash that his step-dad had left him. Got into petty crime. Was busted and sent to a juvenile detention centre for a couple of years. He went back to his grand-parents when he was released. Two years in the pen and he had grown up to be an aggressive, nasty hunk. A week after returning home he had slapped his grandfather over some argument and they had thrown him out. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, so he'd called me up.
He was supposed to arrive shortly and I was driving to the bus station to receive him. I was very anxious and didn't know what to expect.
When Matt got out of the bus I barely recognized him. He was more than 6 feet tall, broad shouldered, crew cut hair and a stubble. He was wearing a singlet and shorts and carried a back pack. His biceps were rippling and his thighs were like tree trunks. He walked with the arrogance of a wrestler ready to take on the world. And I noticed as I discreetly let my eyes wander, that he had quite a bulge in his pants.
He sized me up with a hostile stare and he shook my hand in a firm grip. Then without as much as a smile, he walked to the car, dumped the back pack in the backseat and settled down in the front next to me.
On the drive back he barely spoke. I thought he was shy and probably a bit overwhelmed at meeting me after so many years but I was wrong. After a while he grunted in a sneering tone, "I know all about you Scot - why mom left you. So let's not play any games here."
I was stunned by these opening remarks, his harsh tone and by the fact that he had called me Scot not Dad.
When we reached home, he got out of the car slammed the door shut and started walking towards the house. He turned around, "You bringing the bag in?" he asked, not very politely I would say.
I pulled out the bag from the backseat and walked towards the main door.
I could see he was impressed with the house.
"You are fukin rich, man. While Mom and I were living like fukin beggars with that junkie." he said finally. That explains his hostility, I said to myself.
He walked around the house, while I carried his heavy backpack to the guest room. He flopped on the bed his legs hanging over the edge.
"You can freshen up. Would you like some coffee?" I asked.
"No, get me some beer."
"You sure?"
"Just get it, man."
When I got back with a beer, I found him, in only his briefs, standing by the window looking down at the swimming pool. He was really a beautiful man, And what a delicious butt. I was feeling a bit ashamed that I should have these sinful thoughts.
He caught me looking at him.
"You have an interesting tattoo on your arm." I said trying to divert attention.
"Got that in the pen. There are more. You can see them if you are good," he said with a smirk, pointing to his crotch.
I didn't know how to react. I was still unsure what he was getting at, it was all a bit unnerving. I laughed nervously, pretending it was a joke but he only gave me a hard look.
"Are you gonna give me the beer or not?" he said as he moved towards me and rudely yanked the bottle from my hand. He took a couple of swigs and then said, " I think I am going for a swim."
He stood for a while at the edge of the pool, guzzling his beer.
"Do you need a pair of swimming trunks? I asked.
He looked towards me, then without responding took off his briefs and jumped into the pool.
"Get me another beer" he yelled throwing the empty bottle at me.
When I got back he was floating on the water on his back. His eyes shut and his front totally exposed. His chest with a soft growth of hair was glistening in the sun. His flaccid cock was huge. He got out of the pool, his body dripping and settled on a deck chair.
He took the beer bottle and asked for the towel. When I was handing him the towel he simply shut his eyes and stretched out on the deck chair. I instinctively knew what I was supposed to do and began to wipe his body.
"Here's another tattoo" he said pointing to his pubic area. All I could see was his pubic hair. "I know you are dying to have a look fuker. Come closer." As I bent down, he pulled me down by my neck and with the other hand parted his pubes to reveal a few words tattooed close to his cock. I was barely a few inches from his cock. I took a deep breath to take in the smell.
"What does it say?"
I hesitated. "Read!" he ordered.
"I Love To Suck Cock." I read.
"Yes fuker, I knew it," he said and pushed my face into his crotch.
I tried hard to cover my growing hardon, but it did not escaped his eye.
"Perverted bastard," he spat, "you have a boner watching your son's cock."
With that he kicked me in the groin and shoved his cock into my mouth.
"Suck it Fag. And then we can lay down the rules of the house."
Before I knew it I was sucking at his cock, accompanied by his verbal instructions.
"Yeah ASSHOLE, suck your son's cock."
"Yeah take it in, FAG."
"Lick you Son's balls."
"Come on, eat my hole, Pig."
Then yanking the cock from my mouth, he asked, "You like it don't you fuker? Beg for it Bitch!"
"BEG FOR IT!"
"Please son," I managed to whimper.
"Beg for it. PROPERLY." He slapped my face.
"Please Son, shove your beautiful cock in your Daddy's mouth. Fuck your Daddy in the mouth, Son."
"Yeah?"
"Treat your perverted Dad like a Bitch, Son."
"Yeah, that's better. Suck the rod Bitch!"
His fingers clutched my hair tightly as he violently pushed my face back and forth. I choked and gasped as his massive, throbbing cock rammed my throat repeatedly. After what seemed like a long, long time, his cock showed signs of ejaculating.
The gland enlarged and copious amounts of cum was discharged in my mouth.
"Eat the cum, Pig!" he spat. "Eat you delinquent Son's cum, you perverted Fag."
I swallowed his cum greedily, licking off every drop from the tip.
He then roughly pushed me off and got back to his beer.
"Get me a cigarette," he ordered.
I am not a smoker, but one of my fuck buddies had luckily left behind a pack of Marlboros.
My son looked divine as he lay on the deck chair with a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, blowing smoke rings.
"Is there anything else you would like, Son?"
"You can order a pizza and then rub my back," he said. "After the ride in the bus my back is stiff."
I massaged his back and feet. He lay there like a Greek god, his eyes shut.
My son had wasted no time in laying down the ground rules. He had made me his Bitch. He obviously had acquired a lot of experience in the prison.
Suddenly he opened his and said, "I need to pee."
"You know where the bathroom is." I said.
"I do. Open your mouth."
I obediently took his flaccid cock in my mouth and gulped down his piss, to the very last drop. Once done he pushed me off and went off to sleep.
As I watched my Son's sun-soaked body, I felt immense love for him, I knew this was the beginning of a beautiful bond we would share. I wanted to please him - be his bitch, his sex toy and take care of his every need.
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