Turning Dad Gay

***AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Continuing with my objective of thoughtful character development and storytelling, this work gradually builds sexual tension. All characters are 18 and over.

* * *

His cinnamon skin glistened with a glittery sheen of sweat; muscles flexed and expanded across his tight and smooth skin. Lifting these heavy boxes was no feat for him. Rafael was fit and retained his youthful appearance into his late thirties. He had on a pair of salmon-color swimming trunks that hugged his contours in such a way that they left little to the imagination.

I found myself staring repeatedly at his crotch each time he turned my way. He picked up another cardboard box from the edge of the boat and walked it down into the depths of the vessel. I barely turned eighteen years old just four months prior, and I had all the sexual desire and depravity a teenager could have.

I could see the outline of Rafael's soft dick and hefty balls, I tried to imagine how gigantic his flaccid genitals would look in my little hand. Seeing his body at work sent a tingling through mine... I knew I was going to live in close quarters with him for a very, very long time. His physique was like a Brazilian God, and there was a certain excitement that overcame me with his exotic looks. I know it's not right to fetishize men of color, but this was a beautiful man, and I couldn't help but picture my white twink body pressed against his and stroking the trimmed chest hair on his pecs.

"Aaron," he said, snapping me out of my lucid trance. "C'mon keep stacking more boxes, we have a schedule to keep." His voice wasn't baritone, but it was deep, commanding, and yet gentle on the ears.

I blinked repeatedly while I cleared my mind and hastily returned to work, grabbing boxes of food and supplies from the small trailer hitched to a utility vehicle. I carefully stacked the boxes on the edge of the catamaran for him to pick up. As I moved, I could feel my stiff cock tugging at my shorts.

He added, "We'll have plenty of time to zone out once we're at sea."

"Yeah," I replied shakily. "I'm just nervous." I was nervous to be on such a long voyage, but in this moment, I was more anxious that he could see my boner.

"I told you, everything will be ok, I'll keep you safe, just like old times. Don't you trust me anymore?"

My left eyebrow jerked up while I cocked my head, "It's not you that I'm worried about, it's mother nature. Besides, I wished that I had more time to practice; to prepare myself for the trip or something."

"Sailing is in your blood," he smirked, lifting a heavy box as if it were filled with packing peanuts. "You're just a little rusty, but it'll come back to you, it's like riding a bicycle." As he turned to descend into the boat, he gestured toward me with the quick nod of his head, "It's like 100 degrees out here, why are you wearing that sweater?"

Seeing a body like his, I'd probably bust a nut in my shorts if I had to expose any more of my skin. Of course, I didn't say that to his face, merely thought it.

It wasn't long before we said goodbye to the San Diego Marina and sailed out into the open waters of the Pacific, destined next for Hawaii and then the world beyond. It was just me and Rafael on this boat for the next year... a lifelong dream of his that he wanted to accomplish before he got too old to easily fulfill it.

Rafael has been a good father for the most part. We don't look too much alike though. He is the son of Brazilian immigrants; he is a mixture of Black, White, and Native. I, on the other hand, inherited almost all my features from my white-trash mother including my petite, twink-like body. Mom abandoned me just a year after my birth, and Rafael raised me on his own until I was thirteen, and then he was out of the picture for another 5 years. Now here we are after such a long hiatus from being father and son, about to sail the world together. He is mostly a good man, but still a deeply flawed human being. There exists between us a great chasm that I wasn't sure if we could bridge.

What the hell am I doing on this boat? Who am I kidding... I know exactly what I'm doing on this boat. One look at Rafael's physique and his charming smile, and I'm signing up to sail the world! I must be completely out of my mind!

"I said, do you want more rice?" His face came into focus from across the little table. We were seated in the living room of the catamaran, enjoying dinner. He was holding a small saucepot with Spanish rice in it, a family recipe... so it's technically Brazilian rice, but whatever. The windows beyond him were dark. The overhead lights, however dim they were, offered enough luminance to blot out my view of the stars beyond the glass.

"Oh," I sat up, sheepishly realizing I had zoned out again. "Yes, please."

He stood up and came around to my side, still shirtless, still wearing those tight swim trunks, and I doubt anything underneath them. As he scooped a spoonful of rice out of the pot, his trunk-like arm was in front of my face, and the warmth of his skin radiated to me. My eyes traced the sinews of his back all the way down to the plump, round glutes of his ass. And then I was experiencing dry mouth. As he went back towards his end of the table, I quickly reached for my water and gulped it feverishly, spilling some of its contents on my sweater.

"You should take that off," he gestured to my sweater with the nod of his head as he spooned more rice onto his own plate. "It's a warm night."

"Speak for yourself," I countered quickly. "I run cold."

We spent the waking hours of the night mostly in silence. Rafael played music on the speakers as we both cleaned up after dinner. I forgot he hated doing dishes; he'd do any other chores, but dishes were his worst enemy. As I began scrubbing plates and pans, I started to realize this was going to be a long voyage.

After wishing each other a goodnight, we each retreated to our own cabins. The quarters were tight, I had a cabin on the port side, and he had an identical one on the starboard side, we each had a bathroom/shower combination, and there was a smaller bedroom on the forward end of each side of the catamaran, but we filled those spaces with extra food and supplies in case we ran into unexpected hurdles at sea.

I closed my eyes, and almost instantly, I was seeing mental images of him, Rafael, shirtless and staring at me with a smoldering expression. I've always had a frail, twink-like body, and so when I was around men with even a slight build and masculine features, I melted. Though he has black curly hair and cinnamon brown skin, the white Portuguese in his blood gifted him with dazzling light blue eyes.

I pictured hugging him tightly like I did so many years ago, feeling that smooth skin on my face. Then I tried to imagine both of us naked and clinging to each other in a tight embrace. I imagined feeling his large manhood pressed against my belly, and my smaller cock rubbing against his hairy upper thigh. I tried to picture what his nipple felt like on my lips, the trimmed hair on his chest, and his expertly groomed Balbo-style beard.

I wanted his cock, I needed to see what his cock looked like and how it feels with blood surging in an out of it as though it were alive on its own... a throbbing creature that prefers to probe deep into a tight warm hole like mine.

I wrapped my fingers around my own shaft... sliding my hand up and down.

With my imagination, I painted a perfect picture of my face up against his trimmed bush, trying to take in each lungful of his male pheromones through my nostrils. "Aaron, we shouldn't..." he would say, but I'd yank his shorts down, exposing his large brown cock and licking its plump pink head with my tongue, awakening the beast. I didn't know what his cock or balls looked like, but I could spend hours in this bed imagining the variety of black and native Brazilian cock that swung between his legs like the clanger in a bell.

My shorts were soaked with pre-cum, and I couldn't wait to soil them completely with my load.

* * *

Three awkward days had gone by, and we spoke so little to each other; we exchanged greetings and pleasantries and shared meals. The journey, if we remained on a direct course, would take anywhere from 7-10 days at the leisurely pace we were on. However, the wind and water currents were pushing us further north, and we fought to get ahead of them; the more realistic duration of this first leg was 14 days. We were stocked up with enough supplies to last a month at sea, so we weren't worried at all.

It was midday, the waters were a bit choppy, and the sun was bearing down on us. Rafael was lying on his stomach, allowing his back to bronze in the rays. I, on the other hand, remained perfectly comfortable under the open shelter near the helm and controls. I had my feet up on the bench cushions, and my fingers were paging through a novel.

"You should take the opportunity to work on your tan," Rafael suggested as he turned his head to face me. "Tans are attractive."

"To some." I corrected with a bit of sass.

He smirked, "True."

"Besides," I sighed, "I don't tan, I tend to burn." I flipped the page of my novel and skimmed over the text while my eyes snuck the occasional glance his way.

"The first tan tends to be a burn, but then you end up darker afterward, and then it gets harder and harder to burn." He rolled over onto his back, revealing a plump bulge in his swim trunks. "You just have to take that first step. I don't know if you remember, but you used to come back from the fishing trips darker than when we set out."

I removed my gaze from his crotch, returning my eyes to the novel before his eyes noticed mine. "Yeah, but I'm comfortable with my skin being pale white."

"I'm sure Miguel would disagree," he grinned.

I lowered the book and locked eyes with him, "What do you...?"

"It's ok, Aaron," he said, shading his eyes from the sun so he could see me better. "I had a feeling you and Miguel were a thing."

Shocked and speechless, I sat there with my eyes scanning the blue horizon for a response or a defense.

"His parents were the ones who called me," Rafael admitted, giving me an awkward smile, like the kind you give people when you know more than you're supposed to. "They wanted to see if I had the means to give you a home. To be honest, I was going to call them myself to get hold of you. I didn't want to do this voyage without you."

I still didn't have a response.

"What happened, why did they want you to leave?"

I put the novel down on the table and sat upright on the bench cushions, my whole body was facing him, and he rolled to his side to face me, propping himself up on one elbow.

"I didn't do anything he wasn't ok with doing," I quickly reasoned. I felt my face getting hot and flushed.

"Of course not. That's not who you are. But something made them upset."

My breathing rhythm became shaky and uneven. "I loved him. I... we wanted to be together. He loves me too."

Rafael just lay there quietly, listening.

"But Miguel is autistic..." I began.

He reasoned in agreement, "High-functioning, though. He could handle it."

"Yes," I agreed instantly, "And he can make up his own mind." I took a moment to backtrack, "When he and I became seniors in high school, his parents moved to Baltimore but let us stay at their old house until we graduated, which we did, a few months ago. But by then, Miguel and I wanted to be together. His parents came back to town to sell the house and wanted us to move to Baltimore with them. It was too difficult to hide our relationship after that." I gulped and felt a pain in my hands; I was squeezing the cushions with all my strength. "His parents thought I was taking advantage of him and wanted me out."

Rafael's eyes slowly dropped, and he shook his head once. There was a moment of silence between us, awkward for me, pensive for him. Then he looked back up at me, "I'm sorry, Aaron. You two were lifelong friends... I don't know why they would assume you were taking advantage..."

"Homophobia," I hissed through my teeth. "You know a little about that subject, don't you?" I inquired rhetorically.

He sat up on one hip, leaning against his hand, "I never said I didn't accept you."

"You didn't have to; you left." With the gritting of my teeth, I reminded myself that I needed to calm down and try to focus on something else. I watched the little white caps on the choppy water, and I drew in a heavy breath. "I was thirteen when you disappeared from my life."

"Aaron, I..."

I interrupted, "I was thirteen and very confused about myself. You were the one person in my life I could confide in... my own father! Someone who could help me feel accepted and loved regardless of who I was. You explained to me that men should be with women, and when I said again that I liked men, you took your keys and drove off!"

He started to cover his face with one hand, breaking eye contact with me.

"Thank God for Miguel's parents, who took care of me... housed me... fed me..." My voice trailed off. I took a deep breath, "Abandoned by my mother. Abandoned by my father in my hour of greatest need. I was afraid to ever tell Miguel's parents that I was gay, because then the last people on Earth who cared about me might abandon me, too! A self-fulfilling prophecy," I chuckled sarcastically. My head dropped as I recalled, "Weeks after you left, Miguel tells me that his parents received a call from you. You were in jail, I don't even care what for, because the fact of the matter is, you gave them permission to adopt me."

Rafael shook his head again, "So, I was just supposed to leave you in foster care?"

My eyes narrowed and I clenched my teeth again, "You disappear, go on some bender lasting several weeks, and then land yourself in the slammer! You could have fixed yourself and come home, but you gave me away!"

"I was going to prison, Aaron! I was going to miss..." He broke and shielded his face from me.

My eyes grew wide. A grown man, the toughest guy I ever knew... my childhood hero... reduced to tears. My heart skipped a beat.

He choked out, "... I was going to miss seeing you grow up." He turned away from me and faced the ocean. His back was reddened from his exposure to the sun. "I'm... I'm sorry, Aaron." He buried his face in his folded arms, "I didn't know how to deal with you being gay. I thought that somewhere along the way, I made a mistake. I was just thirty-three at the time, and five years later, I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing! I thought I failed you in some way and screwed you up for life. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I drank. You're the only son I ever had, Aaron, the only child I've ever had. You are my whole world! And I didn't have the courage to look you in the eyes, and deal with the situation."

Sitting motionless on the bench cushions, my mouth ajar, I then leaned back with the weight of these emotions drummed up from the depths. "I thought..." It took me a moment to string my words together, "... I thought you left because you stopped caring."

Rafael slowly rose to his feet and made his way into the shelter, taking a knee beside me. He put one of his big hands on my frail shoulder and with the other, he took my hand into his, examining my pale, smooth skin. "Aaron, I should have told you that I love you. I will love you no matter what. You are my heart; you are what keeps it beating. I should have been there for you when you needed me most, and I'm sorry that I left. It was stupid of me, but I've had a lot of time to really think about how I would do it all over again."

My eyes were locked into his, those beautifully pale blue eyes, like arctic ice, cooling and soothing my nerves on this blistering day in the Pacific. "And... how would you have done it over?"

His lower lip twitched, and his eyes welled up in hopes of forgiveness. He fought back the tears long enough to say, "Like this." And he wrapped both of his muscular arms around me and held me tightly to him. "I love you, Aaron. You're the best son a father could ever have."

I could feel the radiating heat of the sun on him, and I slowly melted in his strong embrace. I wept into the crook of his neck, and with my eyes squeezed tightly shut amid my uncontrollable sobbing, I choked out: "Dad!"

* * *

It took the full 14 days to reach Hawaii, we spent a week visiting the islands, going sightseeing, and eating our way through local foodie hotspots. Then we stocked the boat back up with fresh supplies and made our way southwest. Eventually, we cut the engines and hoisted the sails. The next stop was Fiji, a farther distance, and through tumultuous waters with even more unpredictable weather. Judging by how long it took to reach Hawaii, we estimated around 16 days or more to reach Fiji.

Spending time with my dad was much more relaxed than in the first few days, in fact, halfway to Hawaii we were watching a movie on the boat's Blu-ray player and sitting beside each other. He shifted in his seat and put his arm over the backrest behind me. It took great courage for me to take his hand and slide his arm down around my shoulders. He gave me a sweet smile and tussled my hair with his hand, and we continued watching the movie. Every night after that, if we were sitting together, his arm would return to its place around my shoulders. I felt so safe and so comfortable with him.

Now, on this next leg of the journey, after three weeks of travel, it was like we had been living together all our lives. Maybe a little too comfortable?

We often shared chores. We had such a small washer/dryer combination unit that we had to do laundry multiple times per week. On one particular day, I was loading his laundry into the machine while Dad was in his bathroom taking a shower. I couldn't start the laundry machine until he was done, but as I pulled his dirty clothes out of the basket, a faded rosy-pink hand towel had tumbled out and onto the floor. I bent over to pick it up, it was coarse and crusty and covered in white stains with a funnel-web-like structure to it. I recognized the stains immediately; I was holding my father's cum towel! He must have tried to hide it amongst his black and grey underwear, maybe he didn't know he left the cum towel in the laundry... most guys prefer to wash those items themselves, for fear of discovery. I was disgusted at first, but as I held the crunchy little towel in my hands, I realized I was holding the evidence of my dad's self-pleasure. I wasn't thinking about the crusty old cum in that moment... I was thinking about him stroking his hard cock and touching himself. What did he think about when he touched himself? Better yet, who did he think about?

The bathroom door unlocked.

I shoved the towel under my baggy sweater, feeling its coarse texture scrape against the soft skin of my flat tummy.

Dad's head poked out of the bathroom. He saw me and shut the door a little more so I couldn't see much more than his neck and chest. "I'm done now. You can start the load."

I stood in bewilderment for a second. "OH," I said, dumping the rest of the basket into the laundry machine. I quickly poured a cap of laundry detergent in and started the machine. "I'll get out of your way."

He smiled back.

As I made my way over to the port side of the boat, I turned around just in time to see my nude father crossing through his side of the catamaran, just a quick glimpse of his naked and perfectly round hairy ass. Unfortunately, I was just going to have to keep guessing what his cock looked like because my view was obscured by the blue towel he wrapped around himself.

I went straight to my room, closed the door, plopped down in bed, and held the pink cum towel up to admire it again.

His meaty cock spewed its seed all over this little towel!

I laid it to rest over my face, sniffing it and smelling the residual scent of his spunk. I kept thinking that this was probably the closest I was ever going to get to having his cum on my face. I hadn't even the foggiest idea of how wrong I would be.

In the coming days he would tear his room apart in search of his cum towel, but he never asked about it. It was apparent now that he never intended for me to wash it; he just forgot it was still in the basket. But he doesn't know I kept it... he still thinks he misplaced it.

* * *

Perhaps I should finally get to how things between Dad and me started heating up. Forgive me for taking so long to tell the story, but it was necessary for you to understand the context. I may be a horny freak who steals and sniffs his dad's cum towel, but he was a normal straight guy who simply wanted to get back into the hang of being a father. However, I have a tendency to corrupt straight men...

"Aaron, secure the rope to the starboard winch!" he called from up on the boom. He was trying to stow the sails in anticipation of a storm that was coming late into the night, the boom needed to be kept steady. The waters were getting choppier and more active.

The vessel was rolling frequently side to side as swells were forming. We hadn't dealt with a single storm on the way to Hawaii, but as soon as we approached the equator on the way to Fiji, the skies became angry.

As I stepped toward the winch, the boat bucked sharply in the swells, and I tumbled overboard and into the lively sea. I tried to swim toward the catamaran, but the wind was pushing the vessel toward the storm, and the ocean current was pulling me away. "DAD!" I called, as I was getting choked by the choppy water. "DAD, HELP!" Between the choppy peaks of the water, I could see him abandon his task and look around the boat for me. It was frightening how quickly I was gaining distance from home. My sweater was waterlogged and pulling me under the surface. I managed to force my head up through the water once more, "DAD!"

He had been looking around the boat for me, but then he turned toward the sea in my direction, his gaze found me. He jumped down from the boom and grabbed a rope as he leaped into the water after me. I hadn't drifted too far, and he was able to reach me quickly.

I continued sinking, and he was using all his strength to pull me up, but in turn, he was having trouble keeping his head above the water. He turned to face me, grabbed my sweater with both of his hands, and tore it wide open like it was tissue paper. After tugging the tatters off of me, I was able to keep my head above water and wrap my arms around his neck. I could feel my bare chest against his naked back, a sensation I had hoped I'd feel in a far less dire situation.

"We're ok, Aaron," he said confidently. "You're ok. I've got you."

Rafael pulled us back to the boat using the rope, and he held onto the wire railing stanchion with one hand, while pulling my entire body up and out of the water by my upper arm. I clambered onto the boat and collapsed face down onto the deck.

"Let's get you inside, c'mon," he said, picking me up under my arms and hoisting me to my feet.

He led me inside and shut the door to the sheltered living room, leaving the storm to brew outside, while only the muffled wailing of the wind could be heard inside. Dad pulled me close in a tight embrace. His big hands rubbed my back in a gesture of consolation.

I wanted to weep, but I was too busy shaking from the residual fear of seeing the boat drift further away from me. "Thank you, Dad..." I managed to say with a shaky voice. "Thank you."

I brought my arms around his trunk-like waist; my face against his bare chest, and I thanked the stars that I was safe and back in his arms. I couldn't help but let out a little whimper as my fear melted away into warmth and comfort. There's nothing like the sensation of a man's bare skin against yours. Unexpectedly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, I felt my cock harden. I had to initiate the withdrawal from the embrace, only I had forgotten one important thing...

As we pulled away from each other, I saw his grin and expression of relief slowly turn to one of shock. His hands had retreated from my back and slid onto my shoulders as he examined my chest. "What the..." his voice faded, then returned sharply, "Are you trans?"

My heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, I remembered what I had forgotten. He had ripped my sweater off in the water, and now he could see my biggest secret. Though I had a twink body and have always embraced being male... I had very large, smooth, perky breasts that began developing when I was younger. Now, as an 18-year-old man, my chest was fully grown, hairless and with nipples not too big or small, but proportionate in size. I usually hid them with baggy sweaters... and now my own father could see them, right in front of him, unobscured and fully on display. I tried desperately to cover them with my arms... but when they're this big, it's not easy. "No, I'm not trans!" I said, blinking and turning away from him.

"It's ok, Aaron..."

I panicked; I felt the shame I've felt since I was young and couldn't stand to have him judge me for being less than a man. I hurried down the stairs toward my cabin without another word. It would have to be explained eventually.

* * *

Talk about awkward, I lay in bed for the rest of the afternoon. The storm slowly moved in; the boat was slowly pitching and rolling. Outside my little rectangular porthole, the horizon climbed up and down as though it couldn't decide where to rest. Rain pelted the catamaran with its constant thrumming. And inside, the boat creaked and groaned as it flexed. Surprisingly, I managed to hear a knock at my cabin; it was done so softly and without much conviction.

I made sure that my oversized shirt was properly covering me up. There was no need to wrap or bind my chest in any way... the cat's out of that bag. I went to open the door.

My father stood there a bit sheepishly, but with sincerity in his eyes, "Aren't you hungry? I made macaroni and cheese. It's from a box, but it's the good brand."

"I'll probably be out there in a little bit. Thanks Dad."

He gently stopped me from shutting the door. "Can we talk? Please?"

I nodded slowly, and then opened the door to let him in. We both moved to sit on the edge of the bed, I wanted to cringe, but I fought the instinct. I knew the situation warranted an explanation. I'd been through this before, with Miguel and two other lovers.

"I accept that you're gay," he started, pausing to really consider his next words. "And I can accept if you are trans or are just trying out hormone treatments..."

"It's not like that," I shook my heavy head. "You probably don't remember, but just before you left, I had asked you to take me to the doctor, but I wasn't able to tell you what was wrong, so you held off on it, and I didn't end up going."

"I remember."

"Well, a year later, I brought it up with Miguel's parents, and they took me to see a doctor. I was developing these," I motioned to my chest, "and it was really embarrassing. After lots of tests, the doctor discovered a small tumor in my brain, next to my pituitary gland."

Cue the moment where he looks at me with a serious expression.

"It's ok," I assured, "the tumor stopped growing soon after it first showed up, and it's non-cancerous. But... it's pressing on my brain, and that caused an increase in prolactin and estrogen. The prolactin suppresses testosterone, and the estrogen surge is what created breast tissue in my chest. The low testosterone levels means that I don't even have chest or pubic hair, it all went away a long time ago."

He couldn't help but look right down at them.

"I'm basically a circus freak."

Dad looked me right in the eye and said, "I don't think you're a freak."

I sighed and was dying to know what was running through his mind.

"But it's not causing you pain? The tumor is not getting bigger or becoming cancerous?"

"No," I cleared my throat habitually, "I'm fine now, I just have these."

He looked at them again, "It could have been worse. They could have been freakishly ugly."

I grinned, I couldn't help it, he just spoke his mind in a way that cut right through the tension. "Dad! Oh my god." I looked away and chuckled.

His eyes were still locked on them, "At least they look good. No, really, believe me. I've seen a lot of them in my life; these are on the top tier. You should feel lucky."

"I suppose you might be right. You're not the first straight guy to tell me that."

* * *

I awoke in the middle of the night. The boat was bucking like a furious bronco, and multiple lightning flashes, and a cacophony of thunder accompanied it. Everything in the cabinets was rattling and sliding about. I'd never seen such weather at sea, and it sent chills down my spine. Some kind of instinctual fear took over, and I wanted off the boat, I wanted to get out of there, but I knew I couldn't.

I made my way into the main living area of the vessel, thinking I might crossover and wake Dad, but I didn't have to. He was sitting on the couch, watching the weather through the wrap-around windows. "Aaron?"

"Is everything ok? Are we ok?" I stood in the middle of the room, my head on a swivel and my sea legs struggling to keep me upright.

"Yes, we're fine. The storm isn't that violent, just some choppy seas and some fast wind."

"C-can't you get us out of here? We have engines and..."

He came over to calm me, putting his arm around my shoulders and bringing me close, "We're going to be ok, Aaron, I promise. The best thing to do in this weather is to ride it out. We shouldn't fight it. There aren't even any waves, just some slight swells. I stayed up just in case I needed to steer us into the swells, but it's really not that bad, we can drift until the storm quiets down."

"Drift? But we'll get off course and..."

He brought me over to the couch and we sat next to each other, his arm still around my shoulders. "Shh." He cooed, "Don't worry, this weather isn't anything, I've been through worse. I know what to do."

With a slight whimper, I put my arms around his waist, clinging to him for dear life, and I buried my face in his neck.

In a matter of time, his hand slipped under my arm and wrapped around my chest, pushing my boobs up toward my chin. I didn't know whether he was just holding me tight or if he had intended for my breasts to rest on his arm. It didn't matter, I liked being cuddled so close, and I liked the way his arm supported the weight of my tits. There was a comfort in it.

A couple of hours passed, and the storm was gradually quieting down. I awoke because I felt movement on my body. As I came to, I realized I was lying down on the couch, with my head in my father's lap, and I was facing away from him. His arm had been in the same place, under my tits, I could still feel the residual heat, but he had moved his arm and that's what roused me. His hand was now at the base of my shirt, near my hips. It didn't bother me, I was so comfortable, and his muscular thighs were a source of warmth. I probably would have fallen back asleep if I hadn't felt his hand move again.

It slid up my shirt, and his big hand was now resting on my flat tummy. Slowly, very slowly, he was opening his hand so that every square inch of it was touching my silky flesh. I heard him exhale deeply. I was so nervous, I didn't know whether to act like I just woke up so that it would spare him the embarrassment, or if I should see what he would do next.

His hand moved up again, this time right under my tits. It stopped moving. Since I was laying on my side, my boobs were pressed against each other. His right thumb was under my right breast, his index finger was between both of my tits, and his other three fingers were under my left breast. He was gently nudging my boobs from underneath to feel how squishy and soft they were. I felt my nipples rubbing against my shirt.

Should I pretend to wake up? Do I want this to continue? Maybe I should make it stop?

His hand then cupped my tits and was repeatedly groping and massaging them.

I couldn't feign unconsciousness much longer; anyone would wake up from this! I opened my eyes and turned my head up at him, "Dad?"

He had a stoic expression, robotic, almost like he was acting on pure instinct and lust. "It's ok, Aaron. I'm going to help you."

"Help... me? I..."

I was interrupted by his fingers springing up to my nipples. My areolas and teats are so sensitive, even the slightest touch can be felt overwhelmingly. His thumb was on my right nipple, his middle finger was on my left, and he began caressing them in circles. He said to me in a very hushed voice, "Just relax. I'm going to help you relax."

My own father had his hand up my shirt and was groping and feeling up my nipples. It was so wrong! But it felt so damn good!

"I love how puffy your nipples are," he groaned through his teeth. Then he lifted my shirt up to my neck, fully exposing my breasts. He cupped my left boob and gently stroked the areola with his whole thumb.

I realized I was starting to moan. And I tried to catch myself, I licked my lips and tried to plead with him, "Dad... I... we shouldn't."

But he pushed his thumb deeper into my areola, rolling my nipple in tight circles, and making me whimper with pleasure. "They're so perfect," he said with his breathy voice. "You have no idea how perfect they are." He continued stroking both of my nipples in circles.

The sensitivity of my nipples might as well have been a direct line to my cock. I was rock hard, and I could feel pre-cum oozing out of my tip. I knew he must have seen the bulge in my pajama shorts, but his fixation was on my fully exposed chest, and he was satisfying a need he's felt since the last time he had a girlfriend nearly a decade ago. His lust has been pent up. He hasn't touched a pair of tits in a long time, and he wasn't going to miss this opportunity, even if I am his son.

I felt part of his thigh muscle flex under my head, which made my head bob up and down a few times. I rolled onto my right side so that my face was looking directly into his crotch, and he could more easily see my breasts. I felt his thigh flex again, this time against my cheek. It occurred to me that I wasn't feeling his thigh... no... it was the occasional throbbing of his thick cock against my cheek.

"Fuck..." he groaned, trailing off. "These titties are gonna make me cum just looking at them. They feel so big and perfect. Any guy would be lucky to play with these."

The stimulation of my nipples had made the areolae recede into a hard and tightly textured shape. Their soft, pillow-like form had become rubbery protrusions that Dad massaged with even more strength and vigor. My mouth was open, I was breathing heavily and moaning with such stimulation. I could smell his hard cock through the thin material of his pajama bottoms. I nudged his cock with my chin and said, "I want to see it so bad, I want to see what your cock looks like, Dad!"

Before he could even respond, I felt all the muscles inside me tense up. I became hyper-aware of how stimulated and raw my nipples felt with the hard massaging he was doing. My cock erupted in my thin pajama bottoms, the white fluid soaked the immediate area and permeated the fabric, within full view of my father. He stopped stroking my nipples and watched me moan and breathe heavily as I released my full load just from the stimulation to my nipples. I don't know what he was thinking then, but he let out a deep and heavy exhale. It must have felt so powerful for him to have such command of my body that he could make me cum without even touching my dick.

He let go of my tits and moved out from underneath me. Then he stood in the middle of the room, holding his head, "Fuck." I thought he was mad at me for cumming too early. But then he paced about briefly, and said, "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Then he started down toward his cabin, saying one last thing, "Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning." And that was that.

* * *

I must have been properly exhausted and very well relaxed to have slept so late into the morning. I went out on deck to see Dad sitting at the helm, using the engines to quickly steer us back on course. The sun was shining; the storm clouds retreated to the eastern horizon. I sat down on the bench cushions, unsure of what to say, but I enjoyed watching him, my hero, my father.

After a long silence between us, I heard his voice finally, "I don't really know what to say."

I looked around. Then I shook my head, "You don't have to say anything."

"Are you angry with me?"

I furrowed my brow a bit. What a strange thing for him to say! Actually... was it a strange thing for him to say, or is it a normal response to what happened? "Angry?" I asked.

"For taking advantage... I shouldn't have done that."

"No, I'm not angry." To be honest, I didn't feel any regret for it. Maybe I should, but I couldn't help it; I enjoyed it. I wanted to say something to alleviate his regret. "You helped me."

He turned to look right at me, astounded.

I thought about what he said last night as he started massaging my areolas, how he said it would help to relax me. That's perfect, I went with it: "You helped me to relax, and it worked. Thank you, Dad."

I thought it might soften his expression, but instead he cringed a little, "It shouldn't have happened. It's... not right."

Isn't it? It felt right to me. Although I noticed he hasn't said yet that 'it won't happen again', he simply said, 'it shouldn't have happened'.

* * *

The sun had not yet set; the sky was ablaze in colors of orange and pink. The water was calm. And my father and I finished off the last of our supply of leafy greens in a delicious, loaded salad, and he cleared the plates from the table, disappearing into the boat and then emerging back out to sit by me on the curved bench. We watched the sunset.

"I used to love watching the sunset, but I rarely do nowadays... at least until we took this voyage." The quiet moments between us still felt a little awkward. "Now I see the sunset every night."

I wanted to keep the conversation going, I didn't want the awkwardness to continue. I loved talking to him, I loved being around him. He's flawed, but he's a good man, a good father. "Why do you rarely watch the sunset?"

He thought for a moment, dropping his gaze as though the answer were sitting on the table in front of us, "It's one of those romantic things that people do. I usually only watch the sunset with my girl, or someone I'm hoping to call my girl." Then he looked back up at the horizon longingly, "But I haven't dated anyone in a while. Since before I went to prison, and even then, it was a long time before that."

"Oh right," I said, thinking about his previous love interest nearly a decade ago, "Lucille."

"You remember her name?" He chuckled, looking at me with his soft blue eyes.

"Yeah," I slouched a little in my seat, reminiscing. "I never liked her, though. She didn't appreciate you."

His smile faded, "I didn't realize that at the time. But looking back now, you might be right."

"I know I'm right," I grinned confidently. "You're a good guy. You deserve to have someone who really enjoys being around you. Someone grateful for your kindness and sensitivity. I always thought that."

He nodded a bit bashfully, "Thank you." He returned his gaze to the fading light on the horizon. "And what about you? I never asked about your romantic life. Who was the first guy you dated?"

"I hadn't done anything or been with anyone until I turned 18, so I was actually kind of a late bloomer. Technically, Miguel was the first, but just before him, I was seeing a guy for fun, Tyler." I dared not mention Mike.

"How did that go?"

"At first it was kinda fun, I did a lot of things for the first time with him... but very quickly things went wrong."

"Went wrong?" he leaned in a little, shifting some of his weight onto his hand.

"Let's just say he was a bit too advanced for me. Miguel helped me out of the situation, and then afterwards, I was with him." The story was much messier than that, but I didn't have the courage to delve into the specifics. "I was very grateful at first for Tyler. I always worried that I wouldn't find a guy who was into me because of these," I gestured at my boobs.

I was wearing a baggy shirt, but Dad still looked down at them as though he could see through the shirt. "You shouldn't be ashamed of them," he began, scooting a little closer, but disguising it as though he was putting a knee up on the bench and getting more comfortable. "You should always feel proud of the skin you're in." He discreetly bit his lower lip. "To be honest, those are perfect looking. Hard to believe they're on a guy."

My heart was hammering in my chest. "Maybe I should learn to be less self-conscious, then?"

"You can start right now."

I cocked my head, "What do you mean?"

"There's no one around," he said, gesturing to the thousands of miles of expansive ocean around us, "you should take off the shirt and just feel free. Be proud of your body."

Obviously, he's just saying that because he wants to see my tits, it's the first boobs he's seen in a long time, but he wasn't wrong. If I can take off my shirt and just enjoy the freedom, it might be very good for me. And even though I'm not alone here, at least he likes the way they look, at least I know he's not going to negatively judge me.

He gently reached for the bottom of my shirt and paused, "C'mon. What do you say?" He joked, "I'll take mine off too, so you're not alone." Indeed, he pulled his off, revealing his well-defined pecs.

That made me laugh. "Okay," I said, taking in a deep breath, "go ahead."

Those blue eyes were locked on mine, even as he began lifting the shirt. Then he used the edge of the shirt to carry my breasts almost to my neck. His eyes shifted down in time to see my tits drop out from the shirt and jiggle to a stop. After fully pulling it off of me, we both admired my bare boobs. They were large, smooth, and perky; they looked full, and the golden-brown nipples had a pinkness to them. My nipples were soft and puffy at the moment, not too big and not too small, just perfectly proportional.

A moment passed, and he finally looked away to the horizon to see the last remaining glow of the sun's rays. "Maybe it might be difficult to find gay men who are interested in your body, but I'll tell ya, with gorgeous tits like those, you could turn even the straightest men."

I smirked, "I wouldn't mind that." I took a deep breath, allowing him to see my boobs rise and fall with it. "I like cock, it doesn't matter if that cock is gay or straight. I just like to worship it." That was bold, I know... but as my cock hardened, my tongue became looser. And it was true, if the cock looked nice, it didn't really matter to me who that cock belongs to.

"Guys like that," he agreed. "So, as an 18-year-old, who barely sucked cock for the first time a few months ago, what was it like for you? I've only been with women, so I don't know what it's like to worship a hard dick."

"It's..." I tried to put it into words, "... comforting. I know that sounds weird, but there's something very soothing to the soul about having a cock in your mouth. It's like every trouble or problem in the world suddenly melts away and all there is that dick."

"Have you seen an uncut cock before?"

"No," I lied. My muscles were shaking, I hoped he didn't notice.

"I think you should. You should get used to seeing one because you might need to service one in the future."

I gulped, "I don't know anyone with an uncut cock."

"Well..." his voice trailed off. He looked around, unable to decide what to say next. "I'm uncut."

"Could I see it, Dad?"

Rafael stared at me with neither admonition nor admiration, the wheels in his head were turning, struggling to make a decision.

"Just between us guys," I said softly. "No one has to know." I paused, and then pushed harder, "Please Dad, can you teach me what uncut guys like? I don't want to be inexperienced."

He pursed his lips. The decision was made. He slowly rose to his feet and went to stand right beside me. "I think it's good that you get familiar with an uncut dick, the guys will appreciate it." Then he pulled his swim trunks down, revealing a massive semi-erect dick. It wasn't fully hard, but it was hanging about seven inches. It was dark cocoa color, with a foreskin that was only half covering a round, bulbous head of a slightly lighter color of brown. Behind the cock were a pair of large balls in a tight black sac, each testicle was the size of an egg. His deep voice rang softly, "How does it look?"

My mouth was watering; it looked so delicious. "It's so hot. It's the most amazing cock I've ever seen!"

He cracked a sensual smile and then said, "It's the cock that made you." There was a moment of silence as my gaze was locked on his manhood, then he inquired, "What do you think of when you suck cock? What goes through your head?"

I was frozen with anxiety, I wanted so badly to worship Dad's dick, but social conventions inhibited me. Why? No one else was around, no one else would ever know I was going to suck off my own father, yet I was frozen in place! "I don't really think of anything... when you see a beautiful, masculine cock all you want is to please it."

My Dad's cock was throbbing; he leaned in so that his genitals were now resting on my breast. I clenched my teeth to cope with the strong desire I felt.

He was staring at my tits again. He asked, "And why do you want to please his cock so badly?"

"Because I want his cum." My admission sent shockwaves throughout my body, my heart was slamming in my chest as though it might break my ribs. "When a guy cums for me, it's like a reward for doing things right."

"You like the taste of cum?"

"I love it." My mouth was salivating as I stared at my dad's cock. "I wish I could taste it every day."

He put his hand on my shoulder, "You seem nervous. You want me to help you relax?" With his meat still resting on my chest, he leaned down to cup my tits and massage my areolas with his thumbs.

Moving in circles and in circles; euphoria-inducing circles. My nipples hardened into tight rubbery lumps with lots of texture. I was moaning and whimpering with the strong feeling of pleasure I felt. I leaned my head against his hip, and when I realized his soft skin was against my face, I began to kiss his skin. I kissed, then I opened my lips wider, and then I licked; I kissed and licked. Soon, I was leaning my head down to reach the side of his ass cheek, it was a little hairy, but I loved it, I was enjoying his plump ass.

When a guy rubs and plays with my nipples for a while, they start to feel itchy and achy... as if they desire more and more and can't be satiated. It's like feeling blue balls, but for the nipples.

He must have heard my moaning and whining, he said, "They're aching now, aren't they?"

I nodded with a groan, still leaning my head against him.

"It's ok," he cooed, "It happens to women too." He knelt down beside me, gently tilting my head back with his large hand on my neck, "I know what they need to feel better."

I couldn't see what was coming, I only saw the ceiling of the sheltered patio. And then I felt his big full lips wrap around my right nipple, and he sucked, it felt like the large nozzle of a vacuum had affixed itself to my areola. The suction was strong, and I felt his coarse tongue, slick with saliva but still rough. It flicked and lapped at my nipple, and then more suction. I couldn't believe it... he wasn't bullshitting me! The powerful suction on my nipple was actually alleviating the aching feeling I had, and I adored every minute of it. Then he switched to my left nipple and gave it just as much attention. I felt my body relaxing more and more as he switched from one side to another, taking away the aching feeling. His lips tugged at my stiff areolas, it felt like he was going to pull them right off of my boobs. And even though my nipples only became stiffer and more stimulated with this action, it still did the trick.

With the drowsy turn of my head, I peered over at Dad's body, bent over as he devoured my tits. I reached for the thick manhood dangling between his legs and began to stroke it. I loved to watch his dark foreskin repeatedly contract and retract with the movement of my hand. How gracefully his hood rolled over the surface of that plump glans to conceal it, leaving behind only a narrow slit that eyed me right back. The cock was large, my fingers almost couldn't close all around it, and it was stiff, nearly solid, much like a rubber gardening hose.

Dad stood upright, his head tilted back as he gasped and gulped for air. So vigorous was his nipple-play, that he had forgotten to breathe.

I took the opportunity, with his manhood so close to my face, to bury my nose between his cock and balls. I felt his bushy pubes, the proud crown of adulthood that men wear, brushing against my forehead. The scent was faintly like the bodywash he bathed himself with, but his own musky male odor was overpowering it, it was arousing. I opened my mouth to suck on his hairy sac, I made every attempt to put one of his testicles in my mouth, but they were too big. Burying my nose in his sac, was such a privilege. To feel the balls and cock that made me, pressed against my face and obscuring my vision, was an ecstasy I'll never regret. I slid my lips down his shaft to the tip and opened wide, taking him into my mouth and tasting his masculinity. Its girth quickly filled my mouth; I may as well have been shoving a rolling pin down my throat; it almost didn't fit. And each time my lips slid off the tip, I took some of that foreskin with me, teasing it between my lips and sliding my tongue into it. I loved how natural his cock was; untrimmed pubes and uncut cock, it was the way nature intended.

"You're a good boy," he hissed between clenched teeth; his eyes were squeezed shut. "Suck that big cock. You need it."

He used his hips to thrust his cock in and out of my throat, and with my head tilted back, I was able to accept his length with relative ease. His nuts smacked my forehead and the bridge of my nose, I remember thinking how fascinating it was that flicking a guy's gonads can result in pain, but during sex those balls can slam against a face or an ass, and no pain is felt. One of his hands slid down my stomach and into my shorts, straight for my average size cock. Without prompt or suggestion, he started to stroke me.

It was so strange to feel my Dad's hand gripping my cock, and he was enjoying it just as much as I. He even pushed my shorts down, fully revealing my genitals to him, and he stroked and stroked and stroked. Every so often, his long fingers caressed the hairs on my sac; he even cupped my balls as if he was subliminally saying, 'These are mine.' Everything in the farthest reaches of my conscience and morality screamed, 'This is not right!' However, I was driven wild in the moment. I had put my own privates on full display for my father, and he was jacking me off. My Dad wanted to see me ejaculate all over his hand! It was both a power move and the ultimate in taboo curiosity.

And then I felt it... the edge. The point of no return. I know he was going for it, but I didn't know if I was mentally ready for it. Up until now, what we've been doing was simply messing around... true, it's been incestuous and hyper-sexual, but once I erupt onto his hand, there's no going back. I moaned, "Dad..." I had to take a moment to catch my breath and focus my thoughts into words, "... Dad I'm gonna cum."

He kept stroking. On and on he went. He had full control of his son's cock, and he wanted to see how well his boy's cock worked. He wanted to test the organ he gifted me, biologically.

"Dad... you're gonna make me cum." I tried to give him a way out, a chance to stop and cease his actions. And right as I tried to warn him one last time, I felt my euphoric lust roll over into quick spasms as my cock shot it's first load, "You're making me cum!" I whined as the first squirt landed on his fist.

He leaned into my ear and grunted amid his labored breathing, "Good. You're doing so good." I felt his dick push into my mouth and though I was still ejaculating on his hand, I was dedicated to making my dad cum too. In and out, and in and out, that hot meat penetrated my throat until I choked on it.

He pulled his cock out from my throat and changed his position to place his cock between my tits; his manhood landed on my chest with a heavy thud. With those large hands of his, he cupped my breasts and pushed them together to make for himself a toy to fuck. Every oscillation had thrust his dick right into my mouth. Those big hands of his squeezed my tits with all his strength; momentarily I was foolish enough to worry that they might rupture between his fingers or milk might shoot right out of them.

I enjoyed seeing that black cock forcing my tits apart and tasting that juicy tip in my mouth. I slid my tongue between the foreskin and the glans and then made circles around the circumference of it. His bull-like grunting confirmed his enjoyment of my little tactic.

"Fuck," he groaned, then he looked right into my eyes, "I've got something for you. It's coming. Fuck... it's coming." He let go of my tits and shoved his dick halfway down my throat. His grunting was so wild, it almost looked and sounded like he was in pain. And before I knew it, the cock was repeatedly expanding and contracting as it pumped it's load down my throat.

I couldn't breath, his dick was blocking my airway, I felt myself getting lightheaded, but I loved the way the contracting muscles in his forearm-sized-cock seemed to squeeze and deposit his seed deep inside me. He pulled out just in time to let me breathe. There were still a few lazy shots oozing out from his tip and onto my face. Using my fingers, I began scooping the spilled load into my mouth before it got cold. Cum is always best when it's fresh and hot.

Dad collapsed next to me, his eyes half open and his wet dick dripping with the evidence of my effort. I myself was only half-awake, so relaxed that I could pass out from exhaustion. There was no way I could fathom it... I drank my dad's cum. I did the most taboo thing a human could do, servicing his own procreator. The worst part was how much I enjoyed it. To me, getting him to ejaculate was the greatest show of respect I could give, and tasting his cum was the reward he gave me for bringing him to pleasure.

He covered his face with his hands. "Damn it!" Rafael exclaimed as he leaned onto the table and rested his elbows. "What kind of father am I? What the fuck have I done?"

I sat up and put my hand on his back, but he flinched from my touch. I had to say something, anything. "You're a good father."

"Why do I do this to you? What the hell is the matter with me?" He wasn't sobbing, though he was still shattered. The post-nut clarity hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn't cope.

"Dad?"

"I'm failing again as a father... I should be protecting you, not... not doing THIS."

I took his face in my hands, bringing his defeated gaze onto me, "Dad." I could see I had his attention. Letting go of his face, I then explained, "I'm an adult. I chose to do this with you. I know you think you're violating some kind of bond, but if anything, it's bringing us closer together."

He shook his head, "It's so wrong, though. I don't even understand what came over me, what's driving me to do this. I've always liked women. It's never been this way before!"

"It's a lonely world," I said, "for everyone. You needed to relieve your stress... everyone does... it's natural! And I needed that too. I know you, I trust you. I know that you won't hurt me and that you will protect me. And when I'm with you, it doesn't feel wrong, it doesn't feel like I'm violating anything. It feels right."

With his mouth ajar, and his reddened eyes blinking rapidly, he strained to process the words I spoke. It wasn't enough to convince him. He gulped habitually and then excused himself from the table, going straight to his cabin.

* * *

My cabin was dark and quiet. It was not yet morning, and I couldn't sleep. Thoughts of the most amazing night of my life so far had spun circles around my mind. I wish he would snap out of it.

I've only been eighteen for five months, and in that short time, I've had several sexual partners. The only one that didn't feel like a total violation was being with Miguel. He treated me with respect. But his parents will make sure I'll never see him again as long as I live, and frankly, though sex with him felt right, it didn't feel... I don't know... perfect. With Dad, everything feels destined, meant to be... maybe that's just my fucked-up brain talking. With Dad, I feel comforted, safe, and respected. I feel I can explore my fantasies with him, and I won't be traumatized in the process. I know I should feel the exact opposite.

Images of his cock flashed through my head, and I felt my dick stirring with them. He turned me on so much. He's twenty years older than me, but at thirty-eight, he still retains his youthful physique and smooth, tight skin. I reached into my bedside drawer and pulled out the faded pink cum towel and pressed it to my nose and mouth. I couldn't stand breathing air that didn't have his scent in it, at least not while I'm still this damn horny.

There was a loud and confident knock at my door, and as the handle turned, I quickly shoved the towel under the covers of the blanket just in time to see Rafael step into the cabin. He was fully nude, showing off his dark cinnamon skin, brown nipples and equally brown cock. After clearing his throat, he said, "I can't sleep. I figured you couldn't either."

I stared at his beautiful body for a moment and then responded, "No, I couldn't."

He smirked.

I opened the bedsheet beside me and patted the mattress.

He gladly accepted the invitation and got into bed with me, cuddling up to my naked body. My breasts were pressed up against the trimmed hair on his pecs, and our flaccid dicks were pressed firmly together. My face was buried in his neck, his jaw with his Balbo-style beard rested on my forehead. I could hear the calming rhythm of his heartbeat and smell the masculine scent of his skin. I'm sure he enjoyed the way my pillow-like breasts were compressed against him. Our naked forms were intertwined in an intimate embrace; his arms wrapped around my shoulders. There was nowhere else in the world I'd rather be than here with him; it's perfect. It's all I ever wanted, and I almost couldn't believe that it was for real. And something remarkable happened: my nerves subsided, my heart calmed, and my eyes became heavy. His too.

* * *

I awoke to a very warm sensation on my stomach, it felt like a sunbaked item was pressed against me, and its radiating heat was too much for my sensitive skin. I opened my eyes to see that my cabin was bright with daylight. It didn't take long to spot Dad; his wet mouth was nursing gingerly at my breasts. Some might find it shocking or bothersome to wake up in this manner, but for me, it was bliss. I realized that warm item on my stomach was his hard cock, engorged with hot blood from the center of his body. It was even oozing precum all over my tummy.

Reaching over with my arm, I caressed his back, letting him know I was awake and aroused. His eyes met mine while he groped my tits. He ceased momentarily, but I encouraged him to continue with my hand upon his head.

We rolled together so he was on his back, and I was on top of him, dangling my boobs over his face and gently smothering him with them. He sucked and licked and lapped at them like a dog. I was thrusting my hips and grinding my morning wood against Dad's mature cock.

He paused to catch his breath and massage my breasts with his hands, saying, "Damn, they're so perfect! How the hell did I get lucky that my boy grew such fine tits? Nice and big and round and sexy. I could eat these fuckin' tits all day all night."

I felt my saliva-soaked nipples harden as they were exposed to the air, and he switched techniques to gently nibble at their rubbery texture. Fuck... how he enjoyed my tits so much... I was lucky that my father loved them.

He rolled me onto my back, and this time he was on top of me, pushing his tree-trunk of a cock against my belly. And then he pulled the sheets off of us to get a better view of my petite twink body. "What the..." His eyes locked onto something beside me. Then he lifted his hand, holding up his pink cum towel. "I looked all over for this." He grinned as he peered back down at me, "You dirty boy. You really love my cum, don't you?"

I bit my lip and nodded.

"Here," he said, still grinning. "Taste it." And he shoved part of the crusty towel in my mouth to gag me. Then he lifted my ass into the air, bringing my knees up to my chest. "Maybe I'll taste you too, while you're at it." My father's hand wrapped out my stiff little cock. My groin was at his chest level, and he briefly examined my sex, and inspected my balls.

The look on his face was concentrated and inquisitive. It was the same face people have when they are admiring a photograph or putting together a jigsaw puzzle. It fascinated me to see my straight father take such an interest in my genitalia. And I was happy to be in such a compromised and exposed position so he could see my anatomy for himself.

Unexpectedly, my cock went into his mouth, and he began sucking it. It caught me off guard, and I let out a whimper and couldn't stop. His mouth felt incredible. It's hard for any person to specifically describe what a wet mouth feels like on their cock, but the closest description I have is it feels like a series of warm, wet, and fleshy things tugging, squeezing, and thoroughly enveloping your cock. The sucking sensation is noticeable as well, it applies an equal pressure all-over, without it, the mouth feels too loose and soft. But the most sexual aspect of a blowjob is seeing your lover's eyes locked onto yours while they are doing this most intimate task for you. The eyes show an irresistible attraction to eating your cock, but they also express their dedication and devotion to the task. The eyes look longingly at you, and in that moment, there's nothing you want to do more than anything in the world than to erupt into his mouth so you can satisfy his hunger. And my own Dad looked at me with those eyes. I was entranced by his gaze, and I forgot to warn him that I was going to release my full load in his mouth.

The cum squirted out, it felt like it would never stop, I could feel that each contraction of my ejaculation carried with it three times as much cum as it would when I was masturbating. And my father's hungry mouth swallowed it all. Here I was, a son feeding his own seed into his father's mouth.

But things were not over, Rafael slurped up every last drop of my seed and let my flaccid cock landed on my belly with a loud, wet slap. He opened his mouth to let his wide tongue lap at my balls, the way a lion might groom its cub. My ball sack bunched under the pressure of his large tongue, pushing my testicles forward. And his mouth kept moving down. He pressed my knees into my chest so that my boobs were forced against my neck and threatened to choke me under their own weight. My ass was now completely in the air, and Dad was licking my taint, and kept going down until my balls rested on the bridge of his nose, and his tongue was lapping at my anus. And there, his little trek across my privates had ceased, his mouth had arrived at its destination. His slimy tongue licked and probed my asshole, trying to force its way further in with every repeated lick. Again, I saw that hunger in his eyes.

"You've got such a tight little pussy," he groaned between eating my ass. His powerful hands squeezed my cheeks, leaving red marks. And his tongue kept going at my tightness, until he could finally push it into me. It felt like the stubby tentacle of a curious octopus, forcing its way into me to find shelter. He licked and licked and licked, making me cry out in pleasure, though it was muffled by the cum towel. Then Dad stood on his feet on my bed, bending over so he didn't hit the ceiling.

From my perspective, I had a limited view between my thighs. I saw my dripping flaccid cock and my balls dangling over my face. I could see the tight wrinkles of my anus, and beyond it, the swinging pendulum of my dad's massive uncut black cock. His strong hands kept my ass in the air, while his hard dick began rubbing at my crack. Feeling the head of his steaming hot cock at my backdoor was a sensation like no other. He grabbed his cock and squeezed down the length of it like wringing out a tube of toothpaste, and as he did that, a large glob of precum pooled onto my anus. Then, without any more warning, he started pushing his cock into my hole.

His tongue had softened me up, but not nearly enough to accept his raging boner. I stretched and stretched to accommodate him, and after a while, he was inside. My Dad... my father, was fucking me with his cock. He thrusted repeatedly; I could feel the head of his dick poking at the underside of my stomach. The sheer girth of his sex was stretching my internal organs. It hurt, but at the same time, the psychology of the situation was turning me on so hard. We humans think so much of ourselves, but when everything comes down to it, we are still animals. We have the instinct to reproduce, even when that instinct is for a male to drive his cock into the ass of another male, the act in itself stems from the desire to mate. The man who made me, who raised me, had found me attractive enough to want to enact those reproductive instincts on me. This was the highest honor; to be bred by this stallion, this hungry bull. And I couldn't wait to feel him release inside of me.

I didn't have to wait long. "OH SHHHIT," he groaned between labored breathing, "I'm gonna cum." He said, going faster and harder than before. I could feel his balls hammering at my lower back while his cock pushed deeper inside me with every repetitive thrust. His hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed them in his grip. And now with every oscillation he was pulling his cock further out, I could feel the fringe around the head of his cock rubbing my insides. When it as time to push his dick back in, I felt the full length of it enter me. "I'm gonna cum!" he warned again, and his thrusting slowed as he winced from the power of his orgasm. I could feel it, his dick throbbing from inside my ass. And then I began to orgasm too, his fucking had stimulated me to cum at the same time. My own semen oozed onto my face, and my dad watched in fascination as his seed was pumped deep inside me. The throbbing gradually subsided.

Dad lowered my body, so I lay flat on my back, splayed out like a raw Thanksgiving turkey after having been stuffed. He lay beside me, sliding his arm under my neck and bringing my face closer to his. He pulled the cum towel out of my mouth, and his tongue licked a glob of my own cum off of my eyelid so I could see him. On my belly rested his flaccid cock.

My father had bred me --well... as bred as a male could be when fucked up the ass. I already knew what it was like to be dominated by another male, but this was different. The man who made me, laid claim to my body. The very balls that conceived me, had unloaded inside me. It was like fulfilling a fantasy that you never realized you had in you.

We cuddled together for the remainder of the daylight.

* * *

The sun was setting as I emerged onto the sheltered deck, freshly cleaned and showered. Dad set down a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes for me on the table. And we ate in blissful silence as we watched the sun die on the horizon. And then we sat in further silence while our minds replayed the sights and sensations we experienced in the last few days.

"We're far off course," he said, breaking the silence. "It'll take us longer to get to Fiji, but we have enough supplies to last us, and enough fuel if we continue to use the sails."

I didn't respond. I just sat there with a stupid smile on my face.

"Did you hear me?"

That snapped me out of it. My eyes met his. And I smiled again.

He sighed and leaned back onto the bench. "Look I won't lie; I've had the best time of my life these past few days. And as awkward as it is for me to say, it's been the best sex too. But maybe we should..."

"Don't say it," I interrupted. "Don't say 'we should stop'. Don't tell me that we must end it."

Rafael shook his head, "It's wrong, Aaron... so wrong."

"Why?" I barked, "Why is it so wrong?" I ran my fingers through my hair, ready to tear it all out.

"I'm your dad, I should be protecting you, doing productive things that support you. It's not right for a father to have sex with his son!"

"Yes, you're my dad, but I'm an adult now," I shifted in my seat. "You don't need to raise me anymore. The era of teaching me morality, right and wrong, and setting a lawful example... that's over. Now I'm free to make my own decisions, and you're free to live your life how you'd like. I KNOW right from wrong; I HAVE my own sense of what morality is."

"Oh really? How is this moral at all?"

Shaking my head, I thought for a moment and then held my hands out in a dramatic shrug, "We're not hurting anyone. You and I are single, we have no attachments to anyone else right now. We're both adults, we both consented to this, and it's not like I'm going to give birth to a defective human. No harm has been done. And no one has to know what we're doing!"

He blinked a few times. "Does that mean you still expect more?"

"Of course!" I declared proudly. My gaze dropped as I admitted, "I've always felt like a freak with this chest. And I've had a nightmare of a time exploring my desires with other men. But with you... I feel so safe," our eyes met as I continued, "I feel liberated... I feel FREE! Free from the social constraints of life, free to enjoy the company and activities with the man I choose." I thought for a moment. "You have made me feel so comfortable with my own body, you've helped me to feel sexy and worthy of being loved. And I get to experience sex and pleasure with someone I know who has my best interests at heart..." I combed my hair back, "I know what I'm about to say sounds totally insane, but when you think about it, when you really consider how dangerous and selfish the world can be, then it makes sense that my dad is the safest person I can explore my sexuality with."

His beautiful light blue eyes were locked on mine with a pensive expression. He pursed his lips to moisten them, as people do when they ponder intently. Now, in this moment, I think he truly came to terms with all of it.