Cucked By My Dad Ch. 06

Note: This chapter contains scenes of incest content. Enjoy!

******************

The only thing worse than a wedding is a family wedding. I already don't give much of a shit about holy matrimony--throw in extended family members, and I lose interest altogether.

You would think I, Leo Wyte, would be bored shitless at the prospect of my cousin Larson's impending nuptials. Normally, you would be right. Now, however, I was looking for any excuse to avoid thinking about the Very Uncomfortable Thing That Happened Last Weekend.

It started like any other: I thought I might finally get my pussy fucked; my dad swooped in and pounded the guy before I even had a chance; insert emotional breakdown here.

Only this time, I didn't just jerk myself in the corner and call it a day.

No, much as I was loath to admit, I actually loved every minute of it. My father's sweaty, naked body; the sound of his grunts, heaves, and moans; the smell (and taste) of his cum...

Fuck. I told myself I would stop doing this! I had been reliving that scene in my head again and again for days now. I couldn't actually be attracted to my father, could I? That would be sick. I may have little to no morals, but even I knew that father-son incest was less than ideal.

Yet even now, as I packed my bag for my cousin's wedding, my dick betrayed me. I just needed some space, a distraction--something to get my head on straight. And what better distraction than a weekend away with my extended family, where I could remind myself that there were other men in the world besides my dad?

At least, that was the plan.

The wedding was in Alabama at some vineyard outside of Birmingham that my uncle Jeremiah owned. My parents and I were flying in the day before the rehearsal dinner, and even though the three of us were sharing a hotel room, I was hoping Mom might act as a bit of a buffer between me and Dad.

"I can't wait to meet Larson's fiancé," Mom gushed as we stood in line at airport security. "I follow her on Facebook, and she's always posting the most gorgeous photos of her meals."

She pulled out her license and handed it to the TSA agent behind the desk. "I'm not really sure what it is she does for work, but she certainly travels a lot. Just last week, she was in Tallahassee!"

"How long's it been since you've seen your cousin?" Dad asked me. "Three years?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

The TSA agent set my mother's license down, then pulled out his radio and said something I couldn't hear. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, getting to his feet. "I'm gonna need you to step to the side."

Mom looked back at us, startled.

"What exactly is the issue?" My dad said, but a second TSA agent approached.

"Is this her?"

Mom sighed. "Did I forget to take my nail clippers out of my purse again?"

A third TSA agent approached, this one with a pair of zip ties in hand. "Ma'am, we need you to come with us."

Dad stepped in between her and the agents. "What the hell is going on?"

One of the agents looked at my mother and said, "Ma'am, are you aware that you're on the Do Not Fly List?"

We stood there in silence for a moment. Then, my father and I spoke at once:

"Mom's a CRIMINAL?"

"You put my wife on a TERRORIST watchlist?"

Mom put her hands up to stop us. "Oh, I was afraid of this." She turned to the agent.

"I thought that expired years ago?"

The agent frowned. "There's no expiration for assaulting a flight attendant."

She put her hand on her hip and huffed. "Well, she was a bitch."

Dad stepped forward. "We're supposed to be at a wedding on Saturday."

The agent shook his head. "She's not getting on any flight any time soon."

I threw my hands up. "Looks like we're going home. Sorry, Larson!"

"Oh, stop it." Mom waved away the zip ties. "You don't need those, I'm leaving." She turned to us. "You two should still go. I'll be fine at home, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Dad frowned. "Maybe you could drive up--"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You know I'm narcoleptic when I drive." She sighed. "No, it'll be good to have the weekend to myself. Plus, you boys can do a little bonding. 'No girls allowed' and all."

I felt a knot in my stomach. The whole weekend in a hotel room alone with my father? This was NOT part of the plan. But as we said goodbye to Mom and continued through security, I couldn't think of a way out of it. I would just have to be strong and resist the temptation to think about fucking my dad.

__________

"What do you mean there's only one bed?!"

The little gay man behind the front desk looked startled at my hysteria. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered. "There was a mix-up with your room. But it's a King-sized bed, so there should be more than enough room--"

"We'll be fine." Dad gave me a stern look. "There's no need to make a scene."

"But..." I wanted to protest, but I couldn't actually think of a reasonable excuse for why I was so opposed to sharing a bed with my father. I was afraid of being turned on by his masculine energy and his big hairy cock? That wouldn't fly. So I kept my mouth shut and followed Dad to the elevator, pushing our bags on one of those little wheeled dollies.

"It'll be good for you to see your cousin again," my Dad said once we were alone in the elevator. "You guys spent a lot of time together when you were younger. Remember when we went white water rafting in West Virginia?"

I frowned. "Yeah, I really loved getting shoved into the river."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember that. I thought Larson was always nice to you."

"He was. That was Uncle Jeremiah."

Dad nodded. "Right. I can see that. My brother's always been... Well, he has a funny sense of humor. Gets that from our father."

I snorted. As I remembered it, Uncle Jeremiah's sense of humor was usually at the expense of someone else. He was loud and boastful, usually needing to be in control. Come to think of it, an awful lot like someone else I knew...

When we got to the room, I climbed straight into bed while Dad hopped in the shower. It really was a large enough bed that I probably wouldn't have to worry about rolling up against Dad in my sleep. But as I stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, I couldn't shake the feeling that this weekend would not be the distraction from Dad I was looking for.

I had almost fallen asleep when I heard the sound of the water stop. I knew I should roll over and close my eyes, but instead, I found myself peeking at the bathroom door out of the corner of my eye. After a few seconds, it opened, releasing a bunch of steam into the room.

My father emerged, damp and naked except for a white towel stretched around his waist. His skin was ruddy from the heat of the shower, the hair on his torso standing up a little bit from him toweling off before. I kept my eyes half-closed, pretending to be asleep. He walked over to the other side of the bed, and I heard the sound of him unzipping his suitcase.

Then he stood and, in what seemed to be slow-motion, dropped the towel from around his waist.

For the second time in a week, I saw him naked from behind, his hairy ass cheeks looking even thicker and more muscular in this dim lighting. He had a pair of white briefs in his hands, and as he bent over to put them on, I saw his cheeks spread a little to show off the light coating of hair within.

My cock immediately began to grow hard. I slid my hand under the covers, hating myself for continuing to watch him pull on his underwear until he let go of the waistband with a loud SNAP. He lifted the covers, his hairy belly jiggling as he climbed inside. He rolled onto his side, but I could feel the warmth radiating off of him even from a foot away.

I don't know how long I laid there trying to ignore my painfully hard erection. All I know is that, all of a sudden, I felt a heavy weight on top of me.

My eyes fluttered open in surprise. "What... Dad?"

Dad covered me with his hefty frame, his hands holding my wrists to the bed. I could feel his massive bulge rubbing up against mine, his thick snake dwarfing my own. I felt helpless underneath him, my heart racing a mile a minute.

Suddenly, his warm lips were on my neck, the scratch of his mustache harsh against my skin as he nuzzled me.

"What are you doing?" I managed to choke out.

He just grunted, spreading my legs with a nudge of his meaty thighs. I moaned, my body splayed out on the bed as he began to thrust against me.

"Dad... Oh, God, daddy..."

His tongue was warm and wet on my skin as he kissed my neck, his hips rutting into mine, our cocks straining through our underwear.

"We... we shouldn't..." I whimpered, my body shaking with need.

He lifted his head to look at me, eyes wild. "Need to," he huffed.

Then his mouth was on mine. He kissed me so fiercely I almost squirted right then and there. I couldn't believe this was happening. More than that, I couldn't believe that I didn't care. I was so turned on, more than I'd ever been in my life. I needed to be filled, consumed, destroyed. It didn't matter that it was the man who made me who was doing it. All that mattered was the need, red-hot and pulsing.

He held me to the bed, my wrists clenched tightly in his hands, my legs trapped by his thighs. I was open to him, ready to be taken. My heart pounded as he reached down and yanked off his briefs, then my own. Soon, nothing was separating us. All that was left was for him to take his manhood, aim it at my wet, throbbing cunt, and slowly slip inside...

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

My eyes shot open. It was daylight, the sun streaming through the curtains. My cock was standing straight up, throbbing as the cum pulsed out of me. I could feel a warm wetness spreading in my underwear, and I let out a long, whiny moan as I soiled myself with jizz.

I came down from my orgasm with deep, heavy breaths. My vision was speckled with little pinpricks of light, my hands grasping the bed sheets as though I might fall right off the face of the earth.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. My dad stepped out, toothbrush in his mouth.

"Morning!" he said brightly. He nodded at my phone. "You gonna turn that off?"

I glanced over at my phone on the nightstand, my alarm beeping loudly. I grabbed it with frantic fingers, mashing the stop button. For a moment, I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Had we actually...?

Dad was staring at me with a raised eyebrow. "You all right, son? Did you have a nightmare or something?"

I looked down at my wet briefs, soaked through with cum. I threw the sheets off and raced past him into the bathroom, my hands covering my shame.

I hopped straight into the shower, underwear and all. I was shaking like a leaf as the warm water cascaded around me. What the hell was that dream? It had felt so real. My father's body on top of me, his mouth on mine... And I had cum! A fucking wet dream, the one night I'm sharing a bed with my dad. Not just any wet dream, either. The best, most erotic sex dream I'd ever had...

I slapped my cheek, forcing away the memory of sex with my father. Fuck, it wasn't a memory, because it never happened. It was only a fantasy. Except it wasn't that, either! Because I didn't actually want it to happen! I just... I just...

"Hey, son, we should get going soon," my dad called through the bathroom door. "I gotta grab a suit before the rehearsal dinner. Your uncle's hosting it at his place, and it's a bit of a drive."

I took a deep breath. I had to keep it together. I was going to be sharing a room with my father all weekend, I couldn't afford to be cumming in my sleep and fantasizing about his big dick. God forbid I said anything in my sleep! If he knew about these thoughts... Well, I didn't know what he'd do. Disown me, maybe. Or maybe he'd just think I was a fucking freak.

I cut my shower short to only a brief thirty minutes, reluctantly accompanying my dad to the nearest outlet mall as he tried on suits. He offered to pay for me to get something for the wedding, but I'd already packed a backless red silk jumpsuit that I was perfectly happy with. As for the rehearsal dinner, I decided a casual crop top/overall combo would be sufficiently classy.

We ended up arriving at Uncle Jeremiah's place just before sundown. I'd visited that side of the family a few times over the years at their old home in Birmingham but had never been to this new place. It was locked away in a gated community, forcing us to pass no less than two security guards until we arrived at Uncle Jeremiah's house.

Calling it a house was an understatement. It was more of a manor, although even that sounded kind of quaint. The place was enormous, at least three times the size of our house and encompassing about an acre of land beyond it. The driveway was at least half a mile, lined with animal-shaped topiaries and a giant fountain in the center. There were so many cars parked by the entrance that we ended up having to walk for ten minutes just to get to the front door. When we knocked, a little old woman in a maid's uniform opened the door and beckoned us in.

"Jesus, I don't remember Uncle Jeremiah being this loaded," I whispered to Dad as the woman led us through the foyer.

He shrugged. "That's what comes with being a high-powered lawyer."

"And why weren't you a lawyer, exactly?"

Dad stiffened. "Because I decided spending time with my family was more important."

I ran my finger along the marble walls. "Well, that was stupid. Family is overrated."

When I stepped into the living room, I immediately felt small. The ceilings stretched dizzyingly high, revealing open walkways on the upper floor. The south wall was lined with towering windows, letting in the golden-pink light from the sunset and revealing the expansive backyard. Clusters of guests lounged on deep leather sectionals and sculptural armchairs, balancing tiny plates of hors d'oeuvres and half-empty cocktail glasses. They must have rearranged the furniture for the occasion, as glass-topped cocktail tables sat peppered throughout the room. The air buzzed with laughter and murmured conversation.

The whole place smelled like money--aged wood, fine leather, and the faintest trace of something that I suspected Jeremiah had made the staff spritz into the air. I immediately headed for the buffet table and grabbed a plate.

"Leo, we should probably find your cousin and say hi," my dad said, but I was too busy grabbing as many canapés as I could.

A thick Southern drawl cut through the air. "Jud? Is that you?"

A woman with over-plucked brows and a wine glass in hand teetered toward my dad, wrapping him in a boozy hug.

"Good to see you, Linda."

She peeled herself off my dad and waved her hand dismissively. "Ugh, please excuse all this mess. We're renovating, and it's been a nightmare." She chuckled stupidly, like she'd been saying that line all evening. Her bleary eyes widened when she caught sight of me. "Leo! Oh gosh, isn't it just like you to wear a thing like that."

"Hi, Aunt Linda," I said, my mouth full of canapés. "The place looks great."

She smiled so wide her eyes shut. "I wouldn't expect you to know the difference, dear. Jeremiah's just in the other room, fraternizing with the boys from work, you know. I'll go grab him for you--"

"It's all right, Linda," Dad said curtly. "I don't want to bother him. Where's Larson?"

Linda swayed slightly on her heels, taking another long sip of wine. "Somewhere around here," she muttered, already distracted. "He's with that girl. She's something else."

She wandered away, at which point my dad put his hand on my lower back and said, "Come on, let's go find him and say hello."

I felt a shiver run up my spine. I let my dad guide me through the room, trying to ignore the goosebumps crawling across my skin. I remembered my dream, the feeling of him on top of me, the heaviness of his body, the forcefulness of how he spread me open...

Jesus Fucking Christ. Snap out of it!!!

When we found Larson, he was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of cognac in one hand and the other in the hand of a blonde woman wearing an enormous amount of makeup. I almost did a double-take when I saw him--last time we hung out, he was awkward and lanky, sporting a wispy mustache and an unflattering bowl cut. Now, he looked... well, hot.

His dark hair was short but messy, his jawline razor-sharp and clean-shaven except for a thick, furry mustache that had finally filled out. He wore a fitted suit that showed off his body. I guess he'd started working out since I'd last seen him. I wondered what else had changed.

I was so busy staring at my newly-hot cousin that it took me a moment to notice the woman hanging onto him like a parasite. His fiancée, I assume, was a platinum blonde Southern Belle who looked like she'd just stepped off the set of a right-wing news program. She held his hand in a tight, leash-like grip, flashing a set of gleaming white teeth like a weapon.

He was in conversation with a couple of tech bro-looking guys, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide.

"Leo? Holy shit, man. It's been forever. How's it going?"

He wrestled his hand out of the blonde woman's grip and wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tightly while giving me that pat on the back that straight guys do.

"Sure has," I said, pulling back. "You look... different."

He laughed. "You too, dude. You're, uh..." He gave me a once-over as if trying to find the right words.

"Gay," I said helpfully.

"Yeah, that," he said with a smirk.

He turned to my dad and beamed. "Uncle Jud, good to see you. I'm glad you guys could make it out."

The blonde woman cleared her throat. Larson turned to her. "Oh, this is--"

"I'm Caroline. Larson's wife." She extended a perfectly manicured hand to my father, ignoring me entirely.

Dad shook her hand and gave a raucous laugh. "Did we miss the wedding?"

She gave a fake smile that seemed vaguely threatening. "Can't blame me for getting a little excited to be Mrs. Larson Wyte. Right, babe?"

She squeezed Larson's hand and smiled at him, then turned back so fast her hair nearly knocked Larson's drink out of his hand. "We're so happy to have you two here. Please, help yourself to the food and drinks, whatever you want." She put her hand to her heart. "Larson's family is my family."

Before I could extract myself from whatever this was, a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.

"Well, well, if it isn't my little brother."

I turned and, for the first time in years, came face to face with my Uncle Jeremiah.

He looked like a slightly older, more refined version of my dad. Taller, broader, and muscular but without the bulk of a dad bod weighing him down. He had grown a close-cropped salt-and-pepper beard and was sporting his usual shaved head, which made him look... I don't know, commanding, I guess? His smile was friendly, but his eyes carried that sense that some part of the joke was on you.

Dad stood up straight beside me. "Jeremiah."

"Come here, man. Bring it in!" My uncle pulled Dad in for a hug, then clapped him on the stomach. "Still carrying that extra weight, huh? Ah, I'm just razzing you, little brother. Lighten up!"

My uncle's eyes turned to meet mine. "And this must be Leo," he said, looking me up and down like I was for sale. "Last time I saw you, you were a little boy running around terrorizing birds in my backyard. Now look at you."

I blushed. "Yeah, uh, I grew up."

His gaze lingered for a beat too long, his smirk widening. "I'll say."

I felt my pussy flutter out of nowhere. Was my uncle... flirting with me? No, I was probably just imagining it.

My dad cleared his throat. "We were just catching up with Larson."

Jeremiah put his hand on my cousin's shoulder and shook him a little too forcefully. "Isn't he something? Graduated top of his class at Dartmouth, nabbed a sweet little internship with a VC firm, not to mention this sweet little piece of sunshine." He winked at Caroline, who giggled uncomfortably.

Larson gave an awkward smile. "They get it, Dad."

Jeremiah tightened his grip on Larson's shoulder and laughed aggressively. "What, can't a father be proud of his only son? I'm sure Jud here's the same when it comes to his boy."

Dad put his arm around me and gave me a gentle kiss on the head. "You're damn right I am."

A ripple went down my spine. Thankfully, Aunt Linda took this moment to make her entrance, nearly crashing into Uncle Jeremiah as she grabbed onto his arm to steady herself.

"There you are," she slurred. She looked at us and laughed as though we were in on some sort of joke. "I feel like I need a PI just to find my own husband. Baby, the staff needs more of them bacon-wrapped olives--"

"Do you see we're in the middle of talking?"

Jeremiah's tone was nasty. My spine stiffened as the air in the room changed.

Aunt Linda laughed awkwardly. "I didn't mean to interrupt--"

"Jud here was about to tell us all about his son's accomplishments." Jeremiah's eyes sharpened on my father. "Go ahead, little brother."

Everyone turned to stare at me and Dad. My cheeks burned so hard that I'm pretty sure they must have thought I had rosacea.

Dad didn't seem fazed at all. "Leo's taking after his old man. He's about to start college, but in the meantime, he's gonna work with me at the construction company."

Anger quelled up inside me. Since when did I agree to that?

Jeremiah smirked. "Leo working construction? Interesting. I'd have thought he was a little... delicate for that."

He reached out and hooked his finger through the strap to my overalls, flicking it teasingly. His finger rubbed up against my bare skin, sending a little tingle down my side.

"He's helping out in the office," said Dad, putting his arm around me and pulling me in protectively. "He's got a brilliant mind and a real way with people."

Okay, was he talking about someone else? Sure, I was good at subtly manipulating people to give me what I wanted without having to ask for it (I called this "The Power"), but other than that, I would not describe myself as a people person.

"He certainly got the looks in the family, that's for sure," said Uncle Jeremiah. He winked at me. "Sometimes it skips a generation."

Okay, that was definitely flirting. Dad's teeth grinding confirmed that.

Good. It was time to make him squirm.

I giggled like a stupid slut and gave my uncle a light slap on the arm, leaving my fingers on his bicep. "You're so silly, Uncle J."

Aunt Linda chuckled deeply. "Oh, you boys. I swear, if you're not bragging about your kids, you're arm wrestling." She gave me a wink that looked like her face was spasming and whispered, "Always trying to see who's the bigger man."

"Judging by these biceps, I'd say there's no competition," I said coyly. I let my gaze travel over his arms before reaching his eyes. "You must really work out, Uncle J."

My uncle flashed me a grin. "Gotta keep things tight at my age."

I bit my lip. "I bet."

Dad glared at me. "It's been great to catch up, but we'll let you get back to your guests."

Wow, he really was pissed. If I'd known how good it felt making my dad jealous, I would have flirted with my uncle ages ago!

"Nonsense," said Uncle Jeremiah. "I always have time for family. Sorry Kathy couldn't make it, by the way."

Linda shook her head sympathetically. "Tragic what happened to her. I know how it is, though. They still won't let me back into Costco."

"She really wanted to be here--"

"Oh, we understand," Uncle Jeremiah interrupted. "Though if it was me, I wouldn't have let some weak-ass airport cops keep my wife from getting on the plane. Right hon?"

He pulled Linda in by the waist, grinning at us like he was showing off a prize steed. She chuckled and slapped him playfully on the chest.

Dad frowned. "Speaking of which, I should probably call her." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Leo, why don't we--"

"Yeah, you go do that," said Uncle Jeremiah. He put his hand on my other shoulder. "You've never been here, have you, Leo?"

I batted my eyelashes. "No, I haven't."

"Well, let your old uncle here give you a tour."

Dad's grip on me tightened. "That's not necessary."

Jeremiah smiled. "Relax, little brother. I promise not to break him. Just want to show him what a real house looks like."

I wiggled out from under Dad's grip and took a step toward Uncle Jeremiah. "It's fine, Dad." I wrapped my arm around my uncle's, smiling up at him. "I'd love to see the place."

Uncle Jeremiah patted my cheek, grinning defiantly at my father. "Atta boy."

Dad barely had time to protest before his brother whisked me away, leading me out of the crowded living room and up the stairs.

I felt a sense of giddiness as I followed my uncle to the second floor, away from the crowd and my father. I had barely received so much as a glance from Uncle Jeremiah growing up, and now I felt like the center of attention at his own son's wedding. Plus, the look on Dad's face! God, it was priceless. After all the cucking, it was nice to finally get a little revenge. Not that I actually wanted to fuck my uncle. I mean, talk about cutting off your dick to spite your balls. Still, a little shameless flirting never hurt anyone. Well, anyone but Dad.

The second floor was quiet, a wide walkway overlooking the bustling living room below. As we walked, Jeremiah made lazy gestures at different doors, not really caring if I listened. "Guest rooms, gym, office. Nothing too exciting." He stopped in front of a large window overlooking the garden and turned to me, arms crossed. "So. How's life?"

"Uh... good."

He smirked. "That's a lie."

I said nothing. Without Dad there to bear witness to my flirtation, I suddenly felt like I'd walked right into the middle of a trap. I pointed at the door behind him. "What's that room?"

He smiled and reached for the doorknob. "Why don't I show you?"

He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

I walked past him to see a lavish four-poster bed, the light streaming through sheer curtains lined with gold-trimmed drapes.

"Oh, uh... Is this--"

"The master bedroom." He closed the door behind me and strode past me, taking a seat on the bed. "Come, feel it out."

I took a few tentative steps toward the bed, my heart racing as I sat down next to him. He didn't actually think I wanted to fuck him, did he?

"Feel that?" He bounced up and down slightly, although the bed didn't sway underneath me. "Memory foam mattress. 100% Egyptian cotton sheets. Trust me, this bed has seen a lot over the years."

I had no idea what to say to that. "I guess Aunt Linda must be very happy," I said awkwardly.

He smirked, his eyes mocking. "Aunt Linda. Sure."

He leaned in, his cologne powerful and overbearing. "Your dad really did a number on you, huh?"

I swallowed. "What... what do you mean?"

His gaze ran over my face, across my lips, and back up to my eyes again. "A boy like you shouldn't be working at some dying construction company. If you were my son, I'd have you in a cushy job making seven figures before you hit twenty-five. Or maybe you wouldn't be working at all."

I looked away, unsure of how to respond. I didn't like what was happening in my body right now, the way my pussy tingled and my dick throbbed.

He put his hand on my leg and squeezed it firmly. "You really turned out to be quite something. Better than I expected with a father like yours."

The air felt thick and suffocating. I couldn't tell if I was turned on, terrified, or both.

I forced a laugh. "Thanks, I think?"

He leaned in slightly. "You could do better than him, you know."

I frowned. "What?"

"Your dad," he said smoothly. "A guy like that doesn't know the first thing about raising a son. When to be strict, when to push harder. When to have a firm hand..."

He looked down at my lips again. He was so close to me that I was half convinced he was about to kiss me. What the fuck was going on? Did I want that? He was my uncle, but... God, I felt so confused.

Before I could do anything, he leaned back and grinned at me. "You got a lot going for you, kid. You've got charm, you're good-looking. Don't let your dad drag you down." He patted my leg and stood up. "Something to think about."

He turned and walked back over to the door, leaving me more confused than ever.

I followed him back out into the hallway, expecting him to finish the tour, but he just brought me back downstairs to the living room. My father was standing stiffly at the bottom of the staircase, and when he saw me, he gritted his teeth.

"You've got a hell of a boy, Jud," said Uncle Jeremiah, squeezing my shoulders.

Dad grabbed my hand and pulled me aside. "Everything good, son?"

I shrugged dismissively. "Of course."

Dad looked at me as if trying to read my mind. I felt suddenly naked in front of him, vulnerable and exposed. Like in my dream...

"He was just showing me the master bedroom," I said playfully. "Did you know it's soundproof?"

I walked past him into the dining room, savoring the look of sweet, sweet anger on his face. I knew there was some fucked up shit between my uncle and him, but as an only child I didn't really get their dynamic at all. Still, if I could work it to my advantage, I could get one over on my dad and put some distance between us at the same time.

Dinner was held in the formal dining room, a long, imposing space with a chandelier that looked like a glass explosion. The table stretched so far that, even seated near the middle, I could barely make out all the faces around the room. Old rich guys to one side, young college bros and their girlfriends to the other, and Dad and I sitting awkwardly in between.

The staff had already begun setting down plated salads--some frilly nonsense with microgreens and edible flowers--but I was more interested in the martini I'd swiped from a passing tray. I sipped slowly, letting the gin wash away the lingering unease from my uncle's hands on me, his breath too close, his touch too firm. Normally, I liked a bit of lechery from men, but I was actively trying to avoid incest at the moment.

Dad sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the occasional brush of his arm when he reached for his drink. He hadn't said anything about what had happened earlier, but I could feel his eyes on me. He was never a big drinker, so I was surprised when he downed his wine in one gulp and immediately called for another. Guess we'd be catching an Uber home tonight.

At the head of the table, Jeremiah stood and tapped his glass with a fork. The room quieted immediately.

"Well," he said with a drawl, raising his glass. "What a fine evening. What a fine group of people." His smile was wide, slightly practiced, almost sincere. "You know, when a man watches his son get married, it makes him reflect on his own life, his own choices. And I have to say, it takes a damn good father to raise a boy like Larson."

A chuckle rippled throughout the room. Larson, seated a few places down, stared blankly at his plate. His fiancée, on the other hand, beamed at Jeremiah like he'd just declared them homecoming king and queen.

Jeremiah continued, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Marriage is a hell of a thing. A partnership, a test of patience, and a hell of a lot of sacrifice."

Aunt Linda let out a burst of laughter, which rang through the room like a wet fart. Jeremiah shot her a look, and she quickly quieted down.

"When a man gets married," he continued, "he's promising to stand by someone through thick and thin, no matter what." He smirked slightly. "It ain't always easy, but the good ones don't waver. They don't let distractions pull them away."

His gaze flicked toward my dad, the smirk deepening. My dad's expression didn't change, but his fingers tightened around the glass.

"They put their family above all else, even themselves. Because when you do it right--when you commit--it's worth every fight, every bitter morning, every moment you wonder what the hell you've done." He grinned. "Because, at the end of the day, it means you've built something real. You've built a legacy that will make you live on forever. And that's what matters."

He lifted his glass. "To Larson and his beautiful bride. May your marriage be strong, your love unwavering, and our family's legacy everlasting."

The room burst into a chorus of "Cheers!", which I thought was a little much for kind of a shitty speech. Dad just sat still beside me, swirling his wine in silence. Then, quick as lightning, he was on his feet, his fork tapping so hard against the glass I thought it might shatter.

"I'd like to say a few words to my nephew," he said, his voice cutting through the din.

Larson sat up, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.

Dad turned toward him. "Marriage is a commitment, but it's also a responsibility. And the real test of a man isn't just in choosing the right partner but in how he treats that partner once the excitement wears off." He looked directly at my uncle, whose smile was paper-thin. "Some men never quite figure that part out."

He turned back to Larson. "But I know you will, because unlike some people in your life, you actually give a damn about your family. To the happy couple!"

He downed the rest of his drink, placed the glass down with a quiet clink, and sat back in his chair, looking more satisfied than he had all evening. There was no chorus of "Cheers!", just a smattering of "To the happy couple-s" and then awkward silence.

I slid as far down in my chair as I could, grateful I knew barely anyone at this function.

Larson looked nervously at his father, as though afraid he might make a scene, but my uncle just let out a low chuckle, shaking his head but saying nothing.

I suddenly felt Dad's hand on my shoulder. "I love you, son. You know that, right?" His breath smelled like wine, which was unusual for him.

I shrugged off his hand. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I said, scurrying away as fast as my little legs would carry me.

Because my uncle's tour had been so shitty, I had to ask that little maid woman where the bathroom was. Turns out there were about eleven, but only three available to guests, so I followed her to a tiny bathroom in the back of the kitchen and locked the door behind me.

I washed my face, trying to rid myself of the embarrassment of the evening. I'd never seen my dad like this--out of control, quick to anger, weirdly vengeful. It was depressing. As pissed as he'd made me these last few months, what with all the cucking, I hated seeing him humiliated like this. And the way my uncle got off on it... God, was our whole family just sick and twisted?

There was a knock at the door.

"Just a second!" I called out.

"Leo? Can I come in?"

I opened the door to see Larson standing there, his arm resting against the doorway.

"Listen," he said, glancing over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "I know our family can be... a lot. And you look like you could use some fun."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

He grinned. "My bachelor party is tonight. A few of the guys and I are heading out after dinner. You should come."

I frowned. "What's the plan? Poker? Cigars? Watching sports and grunting at each other?"

Larson laughed. "Close, actually. We got a private room at the club. Drinks, dancers, the whole nine yards. Real men's night, you know?"

"You do realize I'm gay, right? Spending the whole night with tits swinging in my face is my literal idea of hell."

Larson nudged me. "Come on, man. It's not just that. I wanna hang out with you. We used to be tight, and... I don't know. I kinda miss that."

I hesitated, surprised. Larson was the closest thing I'd ever had to a sibling, but with his fancy degree and fiancée, it felt like I barely knew him anymore.

He smiled sincerely. "I promise, if it's too boring or heteronormative or whatever, you can leave whenever you want. Deal?"

I weighed it for a moment. "You said there'd be alcohol?"

He nodded. "Open bar, my treat."

I sighed. "Fine. I'm in."

I followed Larson out of the bathroom, still not entirely sure why I'd agreed to extend this shitty night. Maybe I was too exhausted to say no, or maybe I just liked the idea of a night where I wasn't my father's son or my uncle's pawn--just a twink getting drunk with a bunch of straight boys, like my favorite FratX videos.

The moment I stepped back into the hall, I saw Dad waiting for me. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he'd been there a while.

"You ready to go? I was hoping you could drive if you're up for it." His tone was sharp, sober-sounding despite how much I knew he'd had to drink.

"Actually, I'm gonna head out with Larson," I said, keeping my voice casual.

Dad's jaw tightened. "What for?"

"His bachelor party."

He scoffed. "You serious?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Why not?"

Dad stared at me, looking me over like he was searching for a reason to object. A teeny, tiny part of me hoped he would--that he'd demand I come back with him to the hotel, to the bed we shared for just 48 more hours. Instead, he just said, "Alright. Just don't get into any trouble."

I felt a surprising sense of disappointment, but I quickly shook it off. Tonight would be fun, no dad or uncle to make things awkward or uncomfortable.

"Um, maybe you can take an Uber back?" I said. "I'll probably just come back and spend the night here and then drive back tomorrow before the wedding."

He nodded. "Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow."

He walked away, leaving me feeling weirdly empty.

Larson had a driver take us there in a large SUV, which was filled with the thumping bass music of hardcore rap (listened to by the whitest men you'll ever meet, just FYI). The "club" that Larson had mentioned was actually a clubhouse, by far the nicest place I think I'd ever been in my life. It was located on the edge of a massive lake, rippling waters that sprawled out into the darkness.

The main clubhouse was a grand, colonial-style building with tall white columns and massive windows. It looked old but modernized, the kind of place that you just KNOW had slaves back in the day. The car dropped us off at the main entrance next to a manicured lawn that sloped down gently to the water, where a group of boats sat at a private dock.

Inside, everything was polished mahogany and deep green leather, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive cigars. As we walked through the lounge, passing by men of various ages in suits and not a woman in sight, I couldn't help but feel out of place (but still cute as hell) in my crop top and overalls.

"I got us a private lounge in the back," Larson said as though that was supposed to be impressive. He nudged me, chuckling. "We'll have all the privacy we need."

The private lounge was tucked away behind an unmarked door near the back of the club. Dimly lit sconces lined the dark wood-paneled walls, and the glow of a fireplace cast a warm heat throughout the room. A few plush, tufted sofas sat in the center while a gleaming bar stocked with top-shelf liquor stood in the corner, manned by an older gentleman with a bow-tie.

The place looked more like somewhere you would sit and play chess rather than have a bachelor party, truthfully, except one thing: a small stage that had been set up at the far end of the room, framed by heavy red velvet curtains. A pole gleamed under the low lights, and in the corner, a few women in barely-there lingerie reclined on a chaise lounge, waiting for their cue. Even as a gold star faggot, I could tell they were beautiful, the kind of expensive, classy strippers one hired when they wanted to seem refined instead of trashy.

Larson clapped his hands together, grinning. "Welcome, gentlemen," he announced to the group of men already lounging around, glasses in their hands. "Drinks are on me. Enjoy yourselves."

I glanced around, feeling out of place in a way that had nothing to do with being gay. It wasn't so much the strippers--I could ignore them, and anyway, I always had a soft spot for a woman with nipple pasties--it was the garishness of it all. It was the men themselves, the quiet desperation in the way they clung to their cigars and bourbon glasses, ogled the strippers, laughed too hard at each other's jokes. Straight men had a certain hotness to them, I'll admit, but that came from not trying so hard. These guys were so preoccupied with appearance that the whole thing came off like a parody of masculinity. It was like they were copying what they saw from television, movies, their fathers.

Fuck, did I need a drink.

I grabbed a vodka cranberry from the bartender and settled in the corner of the room. Several of the guys were getting lap dances from a few of the girls while the rest were watching a stripper with a cunty bob and an overbite do a striptease in the corner. I watched for a few minutes, slightly bored. Could I do what she did? I'd already tried the sugar daddy thing. Maybe "classy stripper" would be a better fit.

One of the women took her top off, causing a few of the guys to cheer. I checked my phone, wondering if my dad had reached out.

Nothing.

Just when I'd made up my mind to leave, Larson plopped down on the couch beside me, his collar undone and a drink in his hand. His hair was slightly ruffled in a sexy, careless way.

"Leoooo... How's it going, cuz?" He pulled me in for a noogie, which felt oppressively straight, not to mention juvenile. "You having fun?"

"What do you think?"

His face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, man. I know this isn't really your scene." He leaned in slightly, his breath reeking of whiskey. "To be honest, it's not really mine either," he whispered. "But the guys..." He tilted his head toward them, then shrugged as if to say, 'What are you gonna do?'

"Who gives a fuck about them?" I said. "It's your bachelor party."

He laughed, squeezing my shoulder. "Ah, man. That's what I always liked about you. You don't care what anyone thinks."

I blinked, taken aback. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, it's not a bad thing. It's cool. Like, I love that you do whatever you want. You wear weird shit, you never try to act all manly or anything."

"Wow, thanks."

He rubbed his face. "No, I'm... look, that's not what I'm trying to say." He laughed stupidly. "I'm a little drunk."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I can tell."

He put his arm around me, leaning in close to my face. "I think you're so cool, Leo. I always have."

I loosened up a little bit. "Really?"

He nodded. "Like, you remember that camping trip in middle school? We were all just making smores by the fire, and you came out of your tent wearing that Lady Gaga t-shirt and announced you were gay?"

I shrugged. "Vaguely. I made several coming out announcements to friends and family."

He grinned. "It was so badass. My dad was so pissed. He took me aside afterwards and told me I could never embarrass the family like that. He was all, 'You do whatever you want in private, but don't ever bring that shit out in the open.'"

I frowned. "This doesn't sound like a very fun memory."

"Oh no, it was," he said, taking another sip of his drink. "Cuz I remember how cool your dad was about it. Like, you could see he really had your back. Before you came out of your tent, he sat us all down and gave this whole speech about how we had to support you no matter what."

He let out a sarcastic laugh, then took another swig of whiskey. "That's the last thing my dad would do."

I swallowed, suddenly feeling a lump in my throat. "I... I didn't know he did that."

Larson nodded. "Yeah. He was always doing shit like that. For me, too. Anytime my dad was being an asshole, he'd always take me for a walk and ask me how I was doing. I used to wish he was my dad, sometimes."

He laughed to himself. "But that would be crazy, man. Then we'd be brothers!"

He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close, kissing me on the cheek.

I stiffened at the warmth of his lips against my skin, the scent of alcohol thick on his breath. It was just a cousin thing, a drunk guy thing--nothing to read into. But when I turned to look at him, his face was still so close, his expression unreadable. His arm was heavy around me, his fingers idly tracing over my shoulder like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

My first reaction was to pull away, but I ignored it. Instead, I let myself sit in it. He was handsome--annoyingly so, with that sharp jawline and that furry mustache. The kind of guy I would've rubbed one out to in high school if he hadn't been family. He looked different from when we were kids, but he still had that same decent, vulnerable sense of kindness to him.

"You ever think about how weird it is?" he said suddenly. "Just... settling down with one person? Forever?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Big thoughts for your bachelor party. Isn't your wedding in like 12 hours?"

He laughed softly. "I mean, I love Caroline. I do. But sometimes, I think about all the things I never got to do. Never got to try." He licked his lips, his eyes trailing downward.

"Why didn't you?"

He scoffed. "You try having a slut phase with such a hard-ass for a dad. No, he wouldn't have allowed it. Can't embarrass the family, remember?"

He knocked back the rest of his drink. His arm was still around me, his thumb grazing the fabric of my crop top like an afterthought. Then he leaned his head against my shoulder, his lips brushing against my neck like he was going to whisper something in my ear.

I sat there, heart pounding, wondering what was about to happen. Was my whole family into incest? Or was it all just in my head? Was I reading into everything like an idiot? I looked around, but nobody was paying any attention to us. After a few seconds, I worked up the courage to look over at Larson. He had his eyes closed, head rested against my shoulder.

Had this motherfucker fallen asleep on me? At his own bachelor party?

I shook him gently. He lifted his head, eyes droopy. "What's up?" he slurred.

"Okay, I think it's time to get you back to your place," I said, putting my arm around him and helping him to his feet.

He groaned but let me pull him up, his arm draping lazily over my shoulder. "You know," he mused as we stumbled out into the night air, "in another life, I bet I'd have been a lot more like you."

I smirked. "Alright, loverboy. Come on."

I helped him into the car, which drove past the road to my uncle's house and started taking us toward Birgmingham.

"I thought we were going to your dad's place?"

He shook his head. "I got a little place somewhere to crash after." He put his finger to his lips and whispered stupidly, "In case I needed a little privacy."

It turned out to be a hotel not far from where my dad and I were staying (a much nicer hotel than ours, I might add). I helped him out of the car and managed to get him into the elevator to his room.

Larson leaned against the mirrored wall, his head lolling slightly to the side as he grinned at me. "You're a good guy, you know that?" he slurred, reaching out and poking my chest. "Not like me."

I frowned. "What are you talking about? You're a good guy."

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm a piece of shit."

I laughed. "Okay, a piece of shit who's got an Ivy League degree and a gorgeous fiancée."

He looked at me, almost angrily. "I don't care about all that. It's just stuff. It's not real. Not like you."

I looked away, not sure of what to say. This felt too heavy for me, too real for a cousin I hadn't seen in years. The doors opened, and I helped Larson out into the hallway, avoiding his gaze.

"Which one's yours?"

He nodded at the end of the hall. "815."

I helped him to his room, then reached into his pants to grab his keycard. I tried not to notice how round and firm his ass was--damn, he really did work out.

When we got inside, I flipped the light on, revealing a spacious but empty suite.

"Where's Caroline?" I asked, helping him to the couch.

"Ah, she's staying with her girlfriends," he slurred, laying back against the couch. "This is just for me."

I nodded. "All right, well, drink lots of water. And don't puke in your sleep."

He reached out and grabbed my hand. "Wait! Stay with me."

I tried to pull my hand out of his grasp, but he was too tight. "I should get going--"

"You ever think about how different things would be if we weren't cousins?"

The air in the room shifted immediately.

I kept my face neutral. "Not particularly."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Bullshit."

My heart was pounding. Where was this going?

He got to his feet, clumsily unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

He opened his shirt, laying bare his torso. He had a thin layer of hair all over his chest, soft and sexy. His stomach was taut, with rippling abs and a treasure trail leading down to his waist.

"I know you weren't into the strippers," he said, shrugging off his shirt. He put his hand on his chest, swaying his hips slightly. "This is more what you like, right?"

"You're such an idiot," I muttered, but I didn't look away.

He smirked. "Yeah? Why are you still watching?"

I watched him dance in front of me, looking stupid and awkward and sexy. I was being Punk'd, right? But no--he was reaching for his belt now, slipping it free with a quiet snap.

"Larson..."

I wanted to walk away, but I didn't.

He unzipped his pants, pushing them down just enough to reveal the waistband of his briefs. I exhaled slowly, heat creeping up my neck.

He walked over to me, shirtless, belt undone, underwear showing. He grabbed my hand and ran it down his stomach. "So?" he murmured, voice low. "Better than the club?"

I let out a little gasp when he slipped my hand underneath his waistband and wrapped it around his hard cock. Fuck, was this really happening? Did I want this? But it was too late--he was leaning in, he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back.

I closed my eyes, shutting out all the worries and fears in my head. I was tired of second-guessing myself, of trying to be a good person when I knew I wasn't. I focused on the taste of his tongue in my mouth, the feeling of his strong hands unbuttoning my overalls, his hard cock pulsing beneath my fingertips. I knew this was wrong, for so many reasons, but that just made it all the more erotic.

He broke the kiss, his hand holding the back of my head, staring at my lips with hunger. "Fuck, I need you, Leo."

He kissed my neck, still holding me with one hand while the other slipped the crop top over my head until we were both standing there in our underwear. Then somehow we were on the ground, me on his lap, his hands in my hair, his hard cock straining to get through his briefs and my thong. He humped up against me, sending waves of pleasure through my skin every time I felt the tip of his cock rub up against my hole.

"You're so fucking hot, cuz," he moaned between kisses, but I bit his lip, desperate to avoid the reminder that I was making out with my cousin. I slid onto my hands and knees, my fingers trembling as I reached for the tent in his briefs. I slipped his underwear off slowly, marveling at the sight of the cock that sprung out from a closely cropped patch of pubic hair. It just kept going and going, thick and long, until the head popped out like an angry pink jack-in-the-box.

Unlike with me, the big dick gene in our family didn't skip Larson. I grabbed his cock with both hands, burying my nose in his pubic hair. As I breathed in the scent of his hot man-musk, he pulled off my thong, springing my cock from its confines. Then a warm, wet feeling engulfed my cock as he took me into his mouth, and I did the same, and soon we were sucking each other's dicks like a gay, incestuous ouroboros.

His cock felt so good in my mouth, thick and warm and pulsing little jets of precum into my throat. My hands roamed over his body, feeling the defined muscles and smooth little hairs that covered his skin. I squeezed his ass, firm and tight like two boulders. Jesus Christ, my cousin was hot. I could hear him slurping on my cock, swallowing it to the root and swirling his tongue around while he cradled my balls in his hand. I wrapped my legs around his head, pulling him deeper into me as I thrust inside his mouth.

Soon, and without warning, I felt a splash of cum hit the back of my throat. I pulled back, savoring the taste of salty, musky man milk. God, there was something so dirty and hot about swallowing a guy's seed. My cousin's seed! Fuck it, I was all-in on the incest train, it seemed.

He was moaning so loud on my cock, his whole body shaking as he emptied himself down my throat. I pulled off of Larson's cock, grabbing it with my hand to squeeze every last drop I could out of him. He pulled me in for another kiss, reaching inside my mouth with his tongue to scoop out his own cum. It was hot, and sick, and fucking erotic.

I broke the kiss, leaning my forehead against his as I took a few deep breaths. "Holy shit, that was hot," I said, breathless.

He was still stroking my cock, his lips brushing against my cheek until he whispered in my ear, "I want to feel you inside me, Leo."

That cut through the lustful haze like a knife. I pushed him back, my senses returning suddenly and painfully.

He looked at me strangely. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't want to do that," I admitted.

He frowned. "Well... why not?" He kissed my neck. "I want you, Leo. I want to feel what it's like. To be like you. To get fucked."

I scoffed. "I don't even know what that feels like."

He grabbed the back of my head. "Please, cuz. I'm about to get married, I'll never get another chance. I don't want to be like my dad, I don't wanna cheat and be a piece of shit husband. I just want to know what it's like, just once. Before I sign my life away."

I felt for him; I really did. His fiancée seemed like a bitch and I of all people could understand the need to get railed. But I was not the top he was looking for. And more than that, this sudden break in the haze of lust had reminded me that I was currently naked with my cousin's cum in my mouth on the eve of his wedding. Not exactly my proudest moment, even for a morally vacant skeeze like me.

I pushed him away again, but this time, I got to my feet. "I gotta go, Larson," I said, grabbing my clothes and beginning to dress.

He reached for my hand, missing and slipping off the couch. "Wait... come on, Leo. Please? Don't go..."

I looked down at him, sad and drunk and pathetic on the floor. God, I felt bad for him. "I can't be that for you, Larson. I'm sorry."

His lip began to tremble. He buried his head in his hands and turned away from me.

"I don't wanna get married," he cried, his shoulders shaking.

I stared at him for a moment, lost for what to say.

"You... you'll be okay in the morning," I said, pulling on my overalls. I headed for the door, trying to ignore the gentle sobbing coming from behind me. I looked back at him, naked and crying on the floor. For a moment, I saw the boy I knew when we were younger, the awkward teenager with the wispy mustache and the bowl cut. The one who was always afraid of his dad, who was so desperate to please.

I left without another word. I guess he was wrong. I wasn't a good person, after all.

I got an Uber back to my hotel. It was late, past midnight, and my dad was asleep in bed by the time I got in. I could see his chest hair peeking out from under the covers, the tuft of hair in his armpit as he slept with his forearm covering his eyes. For a moment, I felt grateful for him. That could have been me crying on the floor, marrying some woman I barely knew and didn't like. Sure, I was a nobody with few skills and not much of a future, but at least I had a choice. And a nice ass.

I stripped off my overalls, climbed under the covers, and was soon fast asleep.

My dreams were wild and chaotic. They were formless and out of order, images that blended into each other like a monstrous clownhouse. Larson bent over in one of those old-timey stocks, naked and gagged while my uncle whipped him from behind. Jeremiah naked but for a leather harness and a cock ring, his cock angry and purple as he beat his son. My father in a cage, rattling the bars, begging me to let him out.

"Help me, son..."

Then we were running, away from the sounds of my uncle and cousin. Dad was holding me, his body pressed tightly against mine. I felt safe, maybe for the first time ever. My face buried into his chest, his strong arms protecting me, holding me close.

"I love you... I love you... I love you..."

I opened my eyes. The early morning sun was peeking through the blinds, just barely illuminating the hotel room. I could feel Dad behind me, his big, hairy body warm against mine. His arms were wrapped around me, holding me close to him and trapping my hands so I couldn't move. I felt something poking me in the ass, and it took me a second to realize that my father was hard. But it felt scratchy too, like his pubes...

Wait a minute--was he naked?

He breathed in deeply, shifting a little in his sleep. I felt his cock rubbing against me, the scratch of his pubes on my bare flesh. Holy shit--he was fully naked, and I was wearing nothing but my thong. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. What should I do? I had to wake him, right?

Then I felt his lips on my neck. They were soft, gentle. I slowly turned my head to look at him, but his eyes were closed. He was still asleep! Did he think I was my mom?

His hand slid across my stomach, fingers gently tracing my skin. He rubbed his manhood against me, leaving a little trail of precum on my skin. He moaned a little, humping my leg in his sleep, subconsciously trying to slip it inside me.

I lay there, paralyzed. I needed to move, I knew that. To wake him up before things went any further.

But I didn't.

Instead, I pushed my ass back against him, feeling his cock rub against me and slip in between my cheeks, giving me goosebumps. I could hear a sharp intake of breath in my ear as his dick slipped past the strap of my thong, the head rubbing up against my tight pink hole.

"Ohhh..." he moaned in my ear, eyes still shut tight.

His hands slid up my chest, fingers rubbing against my nipples as his manhood poked at my entrance. I was harder than I'd ever been, leaking buckets into my thong. God, what if I just did it? What if I just let it happen? Would it really be so bad? Could I... could I let my father fuck me?

His cock began to push against my hole, searching for its way in. I could let it happen. I could do it. His precum was sticky and slick, lubing me up enough to let just a little bit inside...

Clarity hit me like a lightning bolt. I grabbed my father's hand, freeing myself from his grip.

I sat up, covering my boner with my pillow. "Dad, you awake?" I said, shaking him.

He awoke with a start, eyes shooting open. He rubbed his eyes, then turned to look at me. "Leo? When did you get home?"

He looked down and noticed his erection tenting the sheets. He scrambled to a sitting position, covering himself with his hands. "Uh, hey, buddy. I thought you were spending the night with your cousin."

I looked away, pretending not to notice the wet precum stain his cock had left on the sheets. "Yeah, I came home late last night. You were already passed out."

He nodded, his cheeks growing flush. "Got it. Well, I--I should probably jump in the shower."

He turned away from me and got to his feet. I couldn't see his cock, but I couldn't help but peek at his hairy ass wobbling as he walked to the bathroom.

"How's Larson doing?" he called out from the bathroom. I could hear the sound of the shower running.

"He's kind of a mess," I admitted. "I dropped him off at this hotel nearby, and he was... well, he was really drunk."

I couldn't help but picture my father in the bathroom, desperately trying to rub one out to get his erection to go away.

"Poor guy," he said, his voice muffled by the sound of the water. "It's probably just nerves. Maybe I'll swing by and check on him after breakfast. You wanna come with me?"

"No thanks," I said, laying back against my pillow. I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to stop picturing my father soaping up his cock and pumping up and down. "I think I'm gonna go back to bed."

I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the running water from the bathroom. I was still rock hard, painfully erect from how close I'd gotten to fucking my dad. I rolled over, covering my head with the pillow, and tried to think about anything, literally anything else.

I must have fallen back asleep, because I awoke with a start to my phone blaring on the counter. At first I thought it was my alarm, but then I realized someone was calling me.

"Hello?" I said groggily.

"Leo? It's Jeremiah." My uncle's voice sounded angry and urgent. "Have you seen Larson?"

I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "No, not since last night."

"Did anything happen? Did he say anything?"

"No, I don't think so. Why? What's happened?"

"No one's seen him since last night. He was supposed to come back here, but he never did."

Another voice chimed in from the background. "Leo, what happened at the club? I know there were strippers, I'm not a fucking idiot."

It was Caroline, angry and shrill. "Did he fuck one of them? Did he go home with one of those sluts?"

Jeremiah must have gotten the phone back from her because she went quiet. "Sorry about that, Leo," he said gruffly. "Things are a little tense here, understandably. But I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding."

"Have you checked his hotel room?" I asked.

There was silence on the phone for a second. Then, "What hotel room?"

"Room 815 at the Hilton. I dropped him off there last night."

"What the fuck was he doing at a hotel?" I heard Caroline scream in the background. "He was supposed to go to the club and then come straight back here."

I felt a chill run through my spine. "Why don't I go check it out since it's down the street from me, and I can let you know if he's there?"

"Don't bother," said Jeremiah. "I'm already on my way."

I heard a click as the call ended. Confused, I rang my dad, but it went straight to voicemail.

That was strange. Where could he be? He'd said he was getting breakfast, and then...

I sat up straight as though I'd felt an electric shock. He wouldn't... would he?

As fast as I could, I threw on my overalls from the night before and raced downstairs, flagging down one of the taxis outside the hotel.

"Hilton, please," I said, and then we were off.

My heart pounded the whole ride there. Could Dad be doing what I thought he was doing? To his own nephew, the day of his wedding? It would be the ultimate revenge on his brother, that's for sure. But it would also destroy the family. Why would he do it? And more importantly, why was I so excited by the idea that he might?

I got out of the car and headed inside to the elevator. I had sweaty palms the whole ride up, desperate to see if my hunch was correct. When the doors opened, I raced down the hallway as fast as I could to room 815.

I stood outside the door, hands shaking. Was my father on the other side, fucking the shit out of my cousin? I knocked, but there was no answer.

I was about to knock again when I suddenly remembered the keycard from the night before. Had I given it back to Larson?

I reached into my pocket and felt a rush of excitement as my hands closed around the keycard. I scanned it, waiting for the little light to turn green, then turned the knob and entered.

The suite was empty, but I could see the bedroom door was closed.

"Hello?" I called out, walking towards the bedroom. "Dad? Larson?"

I put my hand on the doorknob, practically vibrating with excitement. I had a sudden flash of the first time I walked in on my dad cucking me, when he fucked my boyfriend Kevin. I'd been standing at the door, terrified of what I would find when I opened it.

This time, it felt different. This time, I wanted to see what was on the other side.

I opened the door.

The smell of sex greeted me right away. The air was thick and humid, almost like a sauna.

"Ohhhhh..." a high voice moaned.

"It's okay," said a deeper voice. "Relax."

I pried the door open a little wider, just enough to poke my head inside. My cousin was sitting on the bed, facing away from me. He was naked, his pale shoulders broad and defined. I could see my father's legs underneath him, hairy and thick. His balls sat nestled underneath my cousin's ass, the majority of his cock already inside him.

"I don't know if I can take any more," said Larson. "You're so thick."

"You're doing so good," my dad said, reaching up and rubbing my cousin's lip with his thumb. "Just a little more and then it's all the way in."

I watched as Larson nodded, then slowly sank onto my father's cock.

I was immediately hard, strangely excited at the sight of my father taking his nephew's anal virginity. I slid my hand underneath my overalls, rubbing myself through my thong.

"That's it," Dad moaned. "You're all the way now. How does it feel?"

"It feels so weird," said Larson. "But good. It's... so deep inside me."

"Are you ready?"

Larson nodded, trembling.

Dad pulled his head down and kissed him, slowly pulling his cock out before thrusting it back inside his nephew. I watched in awe as he opened up my cousin, turning his cries of discomfort into moans of pleasure.

"Oh, Uncle Jud," Larson moaned. "You feel so good inside me."

"I know, baby," said Dad. "I know."

Suddenly he looked past Larson and our eyes met. My mouth was agape, my hand in my pants as I stood there, frozen.

"It's okay," Dad said softly, still looking at me. "It's okay to want this."

"Oh, fuck... I want it so bad," Larson whined.

Dad nodded at me. "So do I, baby."

Suddenly, it was like Dad and I were the only people in the room. I opened the door the rest of the way, my eyes locked onto my father's. I tiptoed over to the chair in the corner, out of sight of Larson. Not that he would have noticed me--he was too busy getting his guts turned inside out by my father.

I sank into the chair, undoing my overalls and tugging on myself as I watched my father in action. He was being so gentle with Larson, giving him time to adjust to his girth, stroking his cock with every thrust to make it more relaxing. Larson's head hung back in ecstasy, his mouth open in an O as he rode up and down my father's cock.

"I've wanted this for so long," he cried, his cock bouncing up and down against his stomach as my father thrust into him. "Oh, God, Uncle Jud. Don't stop."

"I won't, son," my father said, and a chill went down my spine.

Son. Was he trying to tell me something? Did he... did he want me the way that I wanted him?

I pulled my overalls the rest of the way off, then slipped my thong down to my ankles until I was naked from the waist down. I could feel my father's eyes on me, watching me play with myself. I wet my finger and slipped it in between my cheeks, diddling myself as I watched my dad fuck. His eyes crept down to my wet hole, his eyes gleaming with hunger. He grabbed Larson's ass and started thrusting into him even harder.

"Oh, fuck," Larson and I said at the same time, although thankfully mine was a whisper.

My finger found my button, and now I was bucking my hips off the chair, my body rolling with ecstasy. Dad gritted his teeth, huffing as he fucked my cousin. His arms and chest were bulging with muscle, the sweat dripping down his body as he watched my fingers wriggling around inside me, trying desperately to find relief. I could see his mustache twitching, his lip curling.

It was me he wanted, I knew that now. Even now, balls-deep inside my cousin, fucking a straight boy's virgin, wet hole, he couldn't take his eyes off of me. What did that mean for us? How could we go on from here? I didn't know. I didn't care. All I wanted was to watch my dad fuck this boy, wishing desperately that I was the one he was making love to.

"Fuck, Uncle Jud," moaned Larson. "I think I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"Let it out, boy," grunted my dad. "Cum for daddy."

"Oh I'm cumming!" he whined.

I watched as his cock jumped twice, then started spewing cum all over my father's hairy chest. Dad was still looking at me, his chest heaving up and down with every breath as ropes of my cousin's cum covered his torso, his neck, even his chin. He licked his lips, swallowing some of his nephew's cum, still watching me play with myself.

"Oh fuck, I'm breeding you," he grunted. "Daddy's breeding you..."

He grabbed Larson's ass and pulled him down on his cock as far as he would go. His eyes closed as he unloaded deep inside his nephew's ass, claiming him as his own. Larson watched my father with wide eyes, no doubt overloaded by the strangeness of feeling another man cum inside him.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I needed to squirt, needed to find that sweet, desperate release after watching my father deflower his nephew.

The sound of the door banging from the other room interrupted us.

My hand flew off my cock as we all turned to the bedroom door, anxious to see who had arrived.

"Larson? Where the fuck are you?"

Larson went pale at the sound of his father's voice. He looked at my dad, but before he could even lift off his cock, the door to the bedroom burst open. Uncle Jeremiah took one look at his son being penetrated by his brother and, for one tense moment, everything was silent.

"Dad--"

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

Uncle Jeremiah stormed over to the bed, grabbed Larson's arm, and yanked him roughly off of my father. He threw him to the ground, standing over him with his fist raised while Larson cowered on the floor.

"How dare you fucking disrespect me on a day like this," he growled, his neck red and bulging.

Before he could do anything, my father was on his feet, holding my uncle by the wrist.

"It's not his fault, Jeremiah," Dad said calmly.

Uncle Jeremiah turned to Dad, his eyes narrow with rage. "Still trying to take what's mine, Jud? You never could stand me having something you didn't."

I surreptitiously reached for my clothes, trying to escape notice.

Dad shook his head. "It's not about that."

Jeremiah sneered. "Really? It has nothing to do with the fact that Dad actually gave a shit about me? That you were the embarrassment?"

Dad's face grew cold. "Dad died a long time ago."

"And you're still just desperate for his approval," said Uncle Jeremiah. "Desperate to be the golden boy, to be the one getting the attention. You're so pissed that I actually made it in life that you would stoop this low and try and ruin my only son?"

"Dad, it's not like that," said Larson.

"You shut the fuck up," snapped Uncle Jeremiah.

"Are you really surprised he ran?" asked Dad. "Your son doesn't want to get married. If you were actually a decent father, you would have seen that."

Jeremiah scoffed. "You want to give me parenting advice? Where's Kathy, huh, Jud? Why are you here fucking my son and not with your wife?"

His eyes landed on me for the first time. He sneered. "And what about your boy, huh?"

Dad turned to look at me. So did Larson, whose eyes grew wide as he noticed me for the first time.

"Jeremiah, don't," Dad warned.

Uncle Jeremiah laughed. "Your little pansy ass son hates you so much he'd do just about anything to get back at you. Is that why you did this? You saw your boy waving himself in front of me and thought you'd get a little revenge?"

Dad gritted his teeth. "You think you see everything, Jeremiah, but you never did. Not then, not now."

Jeremiah looked at him, then me. He wrenched his hand out of my father's grip and strode over to me. "Oh, I think I know your son better than you do."

He grabbed me by my overalls and pulled me toward the bathroom like a rag doll. I could hear my father shouting as Uncle Jeremiah slammed the door behind him, locking it with a click.

"Uh, Uncle J, what are you doing?"

He turned to me, his eyes sharp with anger. "Taking what's mine."

He reached for his belt, whipping it out with a loud thwack. There was a loud banging sound on the door, followed by the sound of my father shouting, "Goddammit, Jeremiah. Open the door!"

My pulse raced as my uncle walked toward me, confident and assured. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing an incredibly toned body covered in salt-and-pepper hair.

"Enough talk," he said, flicking open the button to my overalls and letting them fall to the ground. "It's time for some action."

I felt the blood rush to my dick as my uncle pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me standing there in only my thong. He unzipped his pants and shoved them down to his ankles, exposing a thick, angry, cock that looked just like it had in my dream. He spit in his hand, then rubbed it on his cockhead as he gazed at me lustfully.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea--"

"Don't act like you don't want this," he said, kicking off his pants. "I know you're a little slut just begging to get fucked."

He picked me up and placed me on the counter, ripping my thong off and tossing it on the ground. My breathing was quick and shallow, my body shaking as he pulled my legs toward him, exposing my virgin hole to his angry purple cock.

"Dammit, Leo, don't do this!" My dad shouted through the door. The banging was louder than ever, almost as loud as my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I looked up at my uncle, this force of nature with the incredible body and the thick, pulsing cock ready to deflower me. This was what I'd wanted for so long, what I'd dreamed of. Some big, ripped, masculine man bending me over and taking what was his, ravishing me until I was a dripping, soiled shell of the boy I was before.

Then I heard my dad's voice again, soft and pleading. "Leo... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this."

Uncle Jeremiah positioned his cock at my asshole, then looked down at me smugly. "Get ready, boy," he said gruffly.

I pushed him away, sending him staggering back a few steps.

"What the fuck?" he said, his eyes wide with shock.

I grabbed my thong off the ground. "You actually thought I wanted to fuck you? You're my fucking uncle, you creep."

He watched me in disbelief as I pulled my overalls back on. "But... you little tease, what do you mean you don't want me to fuck you?"

I buttoned my overalls back up. "I mean I don't want to fuck you. I may be just a hole, but I'm a hole with standards, Uncle Jeremiah."

I pushed past him to the door, leaving him standing there in shock. When I opened it, I saw my father and Larson there, still naked.

"Leo..."

I pushed past my dad, making for the door.

"Leo, wait!"

He chased after me into the living room, grabbing my arm before I reached the door to the hallway.

"What, Dad?"

He swallowed. "I... Why didn't you..."

"Why didn't I fuck Uncle Jeremiah?" I scoffed. "Maybe I'm not a fucking incestuous freak like the rest of you. You ever think about that?"

His face fell. "I..."

"I don't know what it is you want from me, exactly, but I'm done with this little game between us," I said. "Uncle Jeremiah's right. You should go be with Mom."

He glowered. "My brother doesn't know the first thing about how to treat a spouse."

"And you do?" I laughed sarcastically. "He might be a terrible husband and a hypocrite, but so are you. You fuck around on Mom all the time, and I never say anything because I love her, and you, but this is just... it's too much."

"Your mother and I have an understanding," he said quietly. "She doesn't... she doesn't want to know the details, but--"

"And you think I do?" My voice was shrill and hysterical. "You think I want to see you fucking other guys behind her back? I'm your fucking son!"

He was quiet. I stared at him, my body shaking with anger. I didn't know where any of this was coming from, nor why it was coming out now. But it was coming out, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He touched my arm, softly. I hated the way my body responded to him, my legs shaking like a child's.

"Son..."

I stared at him, this big, naked man who had raised me and hurt me so many times. "What?"

"Just..." he sighed. "Please don't tell your mother."

I felt something break inside me.

"Goodbye, Dad."

I left him in the hotel room, walking as fast as I could before he could see the angry tears falling from my eyes.