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This story was written for Alsong as Day #9 of Kinktober 2020! Today's kink was "Incest" and the story contains M/M sex between consenting adults. :3

Addicted to Dad

My dad and I have always been close. Don't get me wrong, before this year there was nothing at all taboo about our relationship. He's a good guy. He raised me all on his own, and for the first twenty years he was the most responsible and devoted father I could ever have imagined. Sure we fought, like all families do, but he was always so encouraging and open about things with me that we never had much in the way of unspoken frustrations to provoke any real confrontations. Even when I moved away to college, we stayed in touch almost daily, and every summer when my friends were off back home or going on vacation together, I went home to see and hang out with my dad.

It was last summer when everything changed though. We were taking a vacation together. A seaside resort we used to visit when I was a kid, only this time we were both adults so there was a lot of stuff dad had wanted to do back then which finally the two of us could enjoy together. Bars, restaurants, some really cool museums about the local area's history. I doubt I ever would have gone on my own, but with dad, it seemed like a lot of fun, and it was.

The only downside, at least that's how it seemed at first, was that we had to share a hotel room. Originally it was meant to be a twin, two single beds, but somehow we got upgraded to a king size... which I guess meant they didn't have any twin rooms left, but still insisted on taking our money. So, for the first time since I had a really bad nightmare when I was like... seven, me and dad slept in the same bed.

For the first few nights, everything was fine. And by fine, I mean fine for the life we'd lived up until that point. Fine for a father and his twenty year old son who weren't in an incestuous sexual and romantic relationship with one another.

But then, at the ass-end of two AM on the fourth day of our holiday, I woke up and heard it. Felt it. Him huffing. The bed creaking ever so slightly, and the shifting sound of a hand moving under and against a sheet that I knew all too well.

My dad was jerking off next to me. I learned later that he'd woken up with a hard on almost pressed up against my ass, and in a panic he'd just tried to get rid of it as quickly and directly as possible. But, even though he was trying to avoid an awkward moment, I woke up. I heard him. I caught him in the act, and as I listened to my dad cum... fuck, I knew right then that I had to have sex with him.

The very next night, we got into bed and drifted off to sleep. At least that was what I hoped he assumed when after twenty minutes or so, I shuffled around, tugged my boxers down to my knees, and started to jerk off myself. I moaned. I know how to keep quiet while jerking off, but I chose not to. I wanted him to wake up. To listen. To catch me in the act.

I came so fucking hard, and I swear I almost moaned to him right then and there.

The next day, after an awkward morning where he barely said a word to me, we went back up to our room and he sat me down on the bed to talk.

I remember exactly what he was wearing. A blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. He was so the stereotypical dad, chubby, broad shouldered, not at all what most people expect from a river otter. But, he was my dad and I loved him, even if that love was starting to express itself in a whole new way. I can even remember the way he looked at me, nervous to bring up what he so clearly wanted to discuss even though he'd been perfectly frank with me about the facts of life and its associated complexities when we had that talk. He was afraid it would hurt our relationship. Afraid that I was too old not to be embarrassed by such things.

He said it though.

He said he'd heard me masturbating last night, and then he apologised. For listening but not saying something. I felt guilty as fuck. He'd been tying himself up in knots all morning because he felt he'd done something inappropriate. So, I told him the truth. Or rather, what I'd decided the truth would be before I could fully explain to him how turned on I'd been listening to him masturbate.

"Dad, I... I heard you jerking off the night before. I just wanted to you know that... y'know, it's fine. It's not awkward or weird and, you don't have to hide it. We're both grown guys, and if you want to jerk off in bed, or anywhere while I'm there? That's cool with me."

He seemed so relieved.

He thanked me.

Hugged me. But, he told me hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. I kinda thought that was it. My chances for anything else happening between us, dashed.

But then... the very next night, a new couple moved into the room next door. A very uh... energetic couple.

We lay in bed side by side listening to them hammering the headboard against their side of the wall, her screaming, him grunting, both of them having the time of their lives, and after about an hour or so, as she begged him to eat her out again, dad huffed and spoke the words that would change their lives forever.

"Goddammit, I'm gonna nut in my shorts if I have to listen to her cum again without doing anything about it."

I could have laughed. Could have made a joke out of it to break the ice. But instead, I took my chance.

"Me too..."

Honestly, it was listening to them with my dad lying right next to me that had me so turned on, but after that night I'd tell dad the truth about everything, so don't feel too bad that I was kinda covering up stuff back then.

"...so, wanna just get it over with now? T-together?"

He looked at me.

Stared at me as though he was trying to figure out if I'd gone insane or if I was joking. But, when I pulled my cock out, the room just light enough for him to see the outline of me doing it, dad did it too.

He wasn't kidding about being close. The lady in the other room came after like thirty seconds, and dad managed to time out his orgasm almost perfectly with hers. Me though, I came when dad came, and he saw me. He saw me looking at him. Watching his cock jerk and spasm as I lost control. He saw the look in my eyes, and do you know what my father did?

He smiled at me as I was lying there painting my own belly with cum while he finished up doing the same, and he whispered that he loved me.

The next morning, we sat and had another long talk.

I could tell you what we said. Every tear shed and every promise made.

But, what mattered wasn't what was said, but rather what happened after it was all said. That's what you really want to hear, I'll bet. I mean, you clicked on this story knowing what it was about, so why don't I spare you our first romantic declarations, and get to the part where my dad and I had sex for the first time.

"Oh, dad..."

I whispered as my lips parted from his, my hands already roaming over his belly, trembling as I slowly inched their way down, then back up again, seeing if he'd let me go further. If he'd let me take off his shirt.

He did.

I took off his shirt, pushed him down to the bed, and kissed his chest. Rubbed his big ol' belly, and straddled him as we kissed more, and more, and more. I could feel his cock through his shorts, and I climbed off him in an instant when I heard him moan as our bulges rubbed together. It had been dark when we'd jerked off together, but now it was a bright and sunny day, and when I took off his shorts and boxers, I almost passed out. He was huge. Almost nine inches, and I thought I was big at seven. His was thicker too, and... fuck, I was on it like a cat on a bowl of catnip. I'd never been with another uncut guy before, but I knew myself and what I liked, so I tried to do all that stuff to him. I pulled his foreskin way up and licked inside it at his tip. I pulled it down and kissed all around his glans. I deep throated him and used my lips to tease it up and down his shaft as I bobbed, and holy fuck, the sounds he made. The way his pre tasted. The way his cum tasted as it hit the back of my throat like five minutes later. That was when my addiction began.

It was torture waiting two more days to get home. We fooled around so much in those last few days we barely left our hotel room, but for all the times we jerked off or jerked each other off or frotted or sucked each other, I was counting down the seconds until we could get back home, home to my bottle of lube, and get him inside me.

When I felt his belly resting against the base of my tail, I nearly started to cry with happiness. When he asked me if I was okay, when he promised me he'd never hurt me as the tip of his lubed up cock pressed against my pucker, I did cry. I'd never been so happy. Never felt so loved by the man who even before all this I knew loved me more than anything and anyone else in the world, just how I'd always felt for him. But finally, it was like we had a way to show each other how much we loved one another that was enough. It wasn't just us making the best of what we could with words and the socially acceptable ways to show a family member that you loved them. Finally, we could kiss. Cuddle. I could fill my ass with my dad's cock, and he could flood me full of cum as I painted the bedsheets in order to show each other just how far our love went.

That was almost a year ago, and if you think I was horny for him then... he's gotten chubbier. I have too. I guess we don't go out as much as we used to, go figure. He's still such a kind and wonderful man, but he's developed this incredible, mind-blowingly hot dom streak. He'll come downstairs in the morning when I'm making waffles, kiss me on the neck, then pull my robe up and my boxers down, and start grinding on my ass without a word. Then he'll wander off, come back with his cock all lubed, and just stand there until I bend over the counter, spread my legs, and beg for him to fuck me. We sit and watch TV together at night, and if he even looks like he's about to get hard in his shorts, I'm on the floor between his knees in a flash.

The best thing about how addicted I am to my dad though... he's just as addicted to me. To the way I look at him. The way I'm starting to get curvier, the way my ass is more chubby and how it slaps when he fucks me hard. The way I play with his foreskin like it's the most incredible treat, coz, y'know, it is. But, most of all, because I still treat him like my dad. I don't try and pretend like we're a normal pair of boyfriends, because I don't want to.

I am in an incestuous, fully consenting relationship with my dad, and if I could I'd scream that fact from the rooftops for all to hear. But because I can't, and I know I can't, I made up for it by still being my father's son. I'm not his boyfriend. I'm not his roommate. I'm his son who's second from top of his class now that he moved home to focus more on his studies. I'm his son who loves almost all the same TV as him, but always does better in the pop culture rounds of quiz shows, and who he loves to fuck in the ass. He's my dad, who tells the dumbest but funniest jokes, always tries to buy the newest and coolest technology even though he totally doesn't understand how half of it works, and whose cum I swear I'd drink from the tap twenty-four seven if it was possible.

Our relationship is a huge part of our lives, but it doesn't replace the relationship we had. It is as big and as strong as it is because of the father and son relationship which was already there. It is that same relationship, only with a new dynamic to it.

An incredible, addictive new dynamic.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I just heard my dad get home from work. I'm gonna go suck his cock before we cook dinner, and if I'm lucky, he might recover in time to fuck me while I wash up the dishes.

By Jeeves

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