Chapter 4
Fletcher had a hard-on. He had a big hard-on, leaking juices into the crotch of his cupping underwear.
The fact that his prick was stiff was interesting to the man. Because Fletcher knew why his cock was hard.
Fletcher's cock was hard because he knew what his son was doing there in the shower. The opaque quality of the shower door didn't entirely mask what was happening behind the glass. Fletcher could see the hazy flesh tones of his son's muscled body. He could see the blurred whipping of Cody's fist up and back along the youngster's stiff prick inches.
And if the visuals weren't enough, what about the sounds: Cody's grunts, Cody's groans, Cody's undecipherable words lost within the pounding sound of the spray?
Oh, yes, Fletcher knew what his son was doing. What was so interesting was that Cody's masturbation had gotten Fletcher all hot and horny.
He turned from the bathroom door, crossed the length of Cody's bedroom and stepped out into the hall. He closed the door behind him.
Fletcher had come into Cody's room to give the kid hell. He didn't know what time Cody had gotten home, but it had been damned late. Fletcher hadn't gotten, home until after twelve, and Cody hadn't been there yet. Fletcher had had all intentions of staying awake to confront Cody upon the boy's final arrival. However, Fletcher's session with Tyler had obviously taken more out of him than he had originally imagined.
"Fletcher," the man told himself, "you are definitely not as young as you once were."
Having heard the sound of the shower, Fletcher had gone to Cody's room to find out where in the hell he had been. More and more often, Cody was staying out late. The streets were no place for any kid late at night. Fletcher bet if Cody's mother were still alive he would be home and in bed when he should have been.
"Don't be an ass!" Fletcher told himself, entering his own bedroom and shutting and locking the door behind him.
Fletcher hadn't known Cody was going to be jacking off in the shower. But, since the kid had been beating off, it wasn't any big mystery why Fletcher's cock was so hard. Fletcher liked attractive young men, and Cody was an exceptionally attractive young man. Any gay would have had to be made of brick not to have gotten hard via the voyeuristic turn-on of seeing an attractive young stud getting himself off in the shower.
That wasn't to insinuate that Cody was in any danger of getting raped by his old man. Hell, no! Not that Fletcher was naturally turned off by prospects of incest, after he thought about it. Shit, no! Incest taboos were all mixed up with tribe-survival bullshit back in the days when no broad could afford to risk having any idiot offsprings. Well, there was no baby going to take root up either a father or his son's sterile ass hole, was there? Shit, no!
As a matter of fact, if Cody were gay, Fletcher would have had few qualms in rationalizing father-son sex. After all, there was one hell of a lot Fletcher could teach any kid.
But, there was no doubt in Fletcher's mind that Cody was straight. And, there was nothing Fletcher would have done in a million years to turn Cody from straight to gay. The world, after all, remained a basically heterosexual one, didn't it? So, why give Cody any more trouble? It was going to be hard enough for Cody to accept his father's gayness, if and when he found out about it, without Fletcher initiating any program to give him any peeks at the pleasures of homosexuality.
Although dressed, Fletcher quickly undressed. He knew, after all, what he was going to do now. His cock was hard, really hard. It seemed more than likely that, after what he had just witnessed, his prick was going to stay hard if left on its own.
So...
If Fletcher had no intentions of converting his straight son to homosexuality, that didn't keep Fletcher from his fantasies. Fantasies, after all, weren't reality. Pretending sex with Cody was certainly not one in the same thing as having sex with Cody. Shit, the imagination and the real thing were as different as night was different from day.
As a matter of fact, some of Fletcher's best sex had revolved around pretending he was fucking his son. Fletcher had begun his incestuous fantasies shortly after Cody reached puberty. Always a well-built little stud, Cody had really blossomed out into a studly hunk.
Fletcher suspected his sexual attraction for his son also had aspects of narcissism, in that Fletcher saw himself (granted, a younger self, but still himself) every time be looked at Cody. In fact, the narcissistic aspects were possibly even more of a turn-on than the incestuous aspects.
Completely stripped down, Fletcher took a quick few moments to check out his body in the full-length mirror.
"Not too shabby!" be told himself.
As a matter of fact, Fletcher was in damned good shape! That was one advantage of being gay -- the realization that a good body upped your value on the homosexual marketplace. Hell, some of his classmates from high school were gross tubs of lard. Well, Fletcher refused to allow himself to slip to that point. Granted, he usually paid for his sex (and paid damned well), which meant he didn't have to be in as good a shape as he was to get tricks. Still, pay or not, Fletcher liked the feeling he got in knowing even jaded hustlers gave a little more to him for the price than they would have given to a Goddamned fat man. Look at Tyler Balor for instance. There was a real pro who didn't blow his wad for just anybody. But Tyler never failed to get off with Fletcher.
Fletcher languidly pumped his big cock. Leaked juices spilled from his cock head to smear the stiff shaft.
Fletcher stopped his masturbation long enough to go to his bed. He lay on his back, his legs dropped over the end of the mattress. He propped a pillow beneath his head.
Fletcher lifted his legs and let his thighs curve upward over his face. He dropped his knees down around his ears.
The man lifted his right hand and took hold of his hard cock. He pulled his stiff prick down from his hard belly, feeling the decided pull of its rigidness at the base.
Fletcher licked his tongue out. The man tasted his own juices. While licking, he pumped his cock, milking even more tasty liquid.
By the solid state of his prick, it hardly seemed possible that the cock had so recently had such a workout up Tyler Balor's asshole. Usually, Fletcher could have counted on a few days after a good fuck before his prick got painfully hard again. But it was very seldom Fletcher came across quite the excitement of watching his son's muscular -- if blurred -- body jacking off in the shower.
Fletcher opened his mouth around the fat, pulpy head of his cock. He bounced his back on the bed in order to work his cock even deeper between his open lips.
Looking up, he could see, the whole run of his eleven cock inches. He could also see the one blue vein that snaked along the side of his fat prick. His healthy balls hung down along the underside of his cock.
He relaxed his spine a bit more. Another inch of cock thrust into his mouth.
Fletcher ovaled his lips to keep his cock securely in place. He wrapped both of his ham-like hands around his ass. He clamped his fingers into his ass buns, pulling to bow his pelvis even nearer to his face. Fletcher was, thus, able to suck up even more of his hard prick.
Fletcher enjoyed screwing his cock up his mouth and throat. Not only did it allow him to better instruct others how to suck him off, but it gave him invaluable practice in becoming an expert cock sucker on others.
Fletcher had graduated from simple masturbation as soon as he had discovered he could touch his tongue to his cock head. Considering the size of Fletcher's cock and the fact Fletcher had taken gymnastics in junior high school, that tongue-to-cock discovery had come damned early. In fact, Fletcher had so early become an expert on his own cock, his first suck off by another guy had proved somewhat of a disappointment. Since then, however, Fletcher had discovered there were thousands of cock suckers out there -- some better, some worse in the job they could do in comparison to his own mouth on his cock.
He sucked his cheeks inward, concaving them against the cock in his mouth. His tongue whipped his prick, curling sensuously around it.
Fletcher worked his left fuck finger deep into the crease of his ass and began to pet his ass pucker. Realizing his asshole was still too dry for a successful finger fuck, Fletcher brought his finger into his mouth with his cock, where he sucked on it. Fletcher's finger was as big as an average-sized cock. The man gooed his finger with spit. He put his fuck finger back on his ass hole and pushed it in through his guarding sphincter.
"Hmmmmmmm," Fletcher hummed around his prick, imagining it was Cody's cock and not his own finger which was then shoving up his tight asshole.
Fletcher sucked on his stiff prick, tasting the resulting new deluge of juice.
His left hand, with its fuck finger jabbed up Fletcher's ass, kept Fletcher's butt firmly in place. He slipped his other hand down beneath his belly to grip the heavy nuts. He began massaging his balls, squeezing them like only he knew how.
Slowly and easily, Fletcher sucked on his large, stiff cock. He worked his prick with his lips, masturbating with his tongue. As he sucked, more and more of his prick successfully disappeared into the taut oval of his mouth.
Fletcher's left fuck finger screwed even deeper up his asshole. His knuckles squashed the ass buns even further apart.
Fuck me, stud, Son! Fletcher commanded himself, sucking even more heartily on his cock. His mental command caused a noticeable trembling of his cock. If possible, Fletcher's prick grew even harder than it already had been.
He finally was able to slip his lips all the way down to the very base of his cock.
Fletcher shifted his hips over his face. His cock stirred in his mouth, becoming more and more slick with spit. Buried deeply down the throat, the cock head released more and more preseminal juices.
Fuck your father's ass, Cody! Fletcher mentally commanded. His finger corkscrewed like a real cock up his asshole. Fletcher's cock corkscrewed down his throat.
Fletcher let his cock begin slipping free of his month. He unbowed his hips far enough so that his mouth could progress from cock base to cock head. Fletcher's ovaled lips sucked the deep groove at the knob.
Fletcher dipped his hips down again, once more shoving the cock into velvety mouth wetness. Simultaneously, his fuck finger was beginning a more thorough screw of his asshole.
Like fucking your old man's ass, don't you, kid? Fletcher silently asked his conjured lover. Like fucking while your old man fucks his face with his hard, stiff cock.
Giving himself up to what he was doing to himself, Fletcher felt everything focusing in on the pleasure flooding his consciousness.
He continued to eat. Me continued to lick. He continued to savor his own sexual tastes.
Fletcher's balls were really cum-bulged by now.
"Grrrunngghhrrrr!" he growled over his prick, thoroughly enjoying the resulting vibrations.
Fletcher's masculine body was becoming glossed with perspiration that stuck his ass hair to the crease of his ass and stuck his chest and belly hair to the man's muscled chest and belly. Fletcher would have to shower afterwards, but he didn't much care.
He did his best to prolong the buildup of pleasure, delighting in the continued feel and taste of his cock. Even more enjoyable, though, was his continued fantasy that he wasn't alone on the bed, that he had his handsome son laboring over him, Cody's stiff prick buried to Cody's cum-flooded balls up Fletcher's tugging asshole.
But, the ending was bound to come eventually. The reality and fantasy were just too pleasurable to be put off indefinitely.
Still, Fletcher fought for continued control, even going so far as to use his teeth on his prick to forestall his orgasm. It was all pretty futile, considering the state of excitement he had built to.
"Fuck me, stud, Son!" Fletcher grunted around his priming prick. "Fuck your daddy to creaming!"
Fletcher's fuck finger screwed into place one final time and stayed there. Fletcher's mind registered one hasty approach of an ejaculation.
"Uggggghhhagghhh!" fetcher gasped as shock wave after shock wave of ecstasy rocked his body.
He spasmed on the bed, his balls spewing deluge after deluge of wet-warm cum into his violently sucking mouth and throat.
Fletcher's eyes blurred with dilating pleasure. The man felt as if he were suddenly sucking his guts out of belly and through the vomiting mouth of his erection.
"Eat me, Son!" Fletcher growled, his words undecipherable as they emerged through a gargling of Fletcher's blasting sperm.
He savored each and every blast of sinus-burning cum that shot loose and drowned his mouth, throat, and inner belly. He sucked until his cum was all gone, until even his balls had been depleted of the tardy cum that usually remained hidden within them.
Finally, reluctantly, Fletcher pulled his finger out of his asshole, hoping for more juices to result as he did so. He then spit out his cock and slowly came unrolled. As he did the latter, he noticed his spine was a little stiff. He was about due for another workout at the gym. He'd been a little lax lately, which wasn't good. At his age, once you started to fall apart, you could do so fucking fast.
Lying flat on the bed. Fletcher listened. At first, all he could bear was his own heavy breathing. When that finally lowered to normal, he couldn't hear anything. Cody was obviously out of the shower.
Fletcher shut his eyes, the taste of his cum still heavy on his tongue.
Between his legs, his cock had gone soft, its pulpy head once again wrapped by bulky foreskin. His balls, still large, despite their recent draining of cum, drooped between his opened thighs.
"Jesus!" Fletcher said, coming to a sitting position. The stiffness in his neck only reaffirmed that it was about time he went down for a really good workout. Maybe even a good massage.
Fletcher padded bare-assed into his bathroom and took a shower. Finished, he dressed. He could have gone directly to Cody's room in just a robe, but Fletcher wasn't taking any chances. Just thinking of Cody jerking off in that shower could make his cock begin a new stirring. Hiding a boner in his pants was one thing. Trying to hide it in just his robe would have been quite another matter.
However, by the time Fletcher was showered and dressed, Cody had left the house.
"Damn it!" Fletcher cussed, standing in Cody's empty bedroom. Discarded clothes and a couple damp towels gave indication of Cody's recent occupancy.
On the other hand, Fletcher was actually glad Cody was gone, if just because it allowed for the postponement of yet another father-son confrontation. It seemed every time Fletcher was turning around any more he was reaming Cody out for one thing or another. But, Jesus, it was about time the kid decided what he was going to do with his life.
Fletcher wanted Cody to go on to college. Cody didn't seem too excited by that prospect.
"I just want a little time to get my head together, okay?" Cody had said -- and still said -- whenever Fletcher tried to pin the studly little bastard down.
Well, Fletcher had about decided that, whether he wanted to or not, Cody was going to have to get his ass in gear and decide upon doing something besides spending his days and much of his nights on the streets. Although Cody hadn't gotten into any trouble with the police, there was always a first time for everything. And, every moment Cody spent out there, doing whatever he was doing, was only tempting fate.
Fletcher walked over to his son's bed and picked up a pair of discarded undershorts. He grabbed the white cotton in his right hand and brought the crumpled material to his nose. He smelled the shorts.
Inside Fletcher's pants, his cock began a renewed swelling toward erection.