Confusion is Nothing New

"...tine?..." Dad murmured. "...been so long..."

Out of memory's darkest chamber came the sound of creaking bedsprings.

He slid fingers into the waistband of his briefs, and yanked them below his asscheeks. He hunched his butt back against Dad's titanic cock, they way all those men had liked, had demanded, had paid to see him do, slutting himself for the sweaty, dreaming man spooning against him.

What did it matter? If Dad woke, Jesse could claim he was dreaming too. It would be awkward, not fatal. And if it was fatal, so what? He couldn't act but in accordance with his nature.

Dad's fingers continued stroking his nipples, already furiously erect. Jesse whimpered, melted back against his Dad's body. Hot breath stirred Jesse's hair. Lips, soft and insubstantial, touched his earlobe.

Jesse whispered, "Make a baby in me." It was something he needed to say.

He reached town and grasped the shaft that had spewed him into his dead mother's womb, where he would transform from an artifact of male lust into a living, breathing son hot for daddy years after she had left this world.

It was huge. Jesse had never felt a cock like it. It was thick as a baby's arm and hard as a bone. Sliding his fingers along the shaft, he felt the paper-thin foreskin, retracted behind the hot glowing coal of Dad's cockhead. It was rich with the thick, chunky slime of smegma. Jesse played with the film, and the cockhead, marveling at the fact that he was molesting his Dad. A sudden gush of pure, liquid pecksnot drenched Jesse's fingertips. Thoughtfully, Jesse made a medley of the two.

Dad's fingers closed like a vise on his son's nipples.

Jesse writhed, burning with need. He couldn't turn back now. Not with the feathery touch of his Dad's breath on the back of his neck. Not with the delicious daggers Dad teased his nipples into. Not with the hot greasy cockhead quivering and eager and needing in his hands, behind his back, next to his buttcheeks, themselves electric with their own desire.

His Dad needed this too, Jesse told himself. What was Dad dreaming of now, right now? Was he dreaming something like those old j.o. fantasies he used to elicit those powerful adolescent fountains of jism? Was he thinking, like Jesse used to, of innocent touch football games on Thanksgiving, and how Jesse's thighs felt on the back of his hands when his son hiked the ball?

Lifting his fingertips to his nose, Jesse knew euphoria better by far than any pot he'd ever smoked. He was high, as fucking high as he'd ever been. It felt as if the pup tent had come loose from the universe and was now spinning, alone in an erotic void.

His anus opening eagerly, Jesse smeared the grease on his tight ring. No other lube was as pleasurable as what a hot body made, and this stuff had to be the best. He liked spit, but he'd never much cared for the artificial stuff. They detracted from the animalistic air.

Dad shifted against his back. Jesse moved within his Dad's embrace, positioning his hips, bending Dad's cock out from his body. Jesse lifted one thigh, eager to spread his legs, needing to be penetrated. His briefs, constricting his thighs, kept the opening narrow. The way he liked it. The more a prong had to batter its way inside him, to more force necessary, the better the fuck.

Shit. I think I'm going to actually get it--

Then he quit thinking and shoved his cunt back against his father's apple-sized cockhead. The way God intended.

A deep breath. The slimy presence throbbed against his ring. The silence of the void was absolute.

Do I turn back? Should I give up--

Fuck it all.

The pain of entry was exquisite.

He had no choice but to slowly sink back onto the enormous cockhead. It was just too big for ramming. It would have ruptured him, if he'd taken it with the heat he truly felt.

Down he sank, absorbing the shaft. His anus, burning, raped his father's fertile lust. His rectum swelled, and swelled, and ballooned, and he thought it would burst.

He almost gave up. It was too much. He slammed his eyes shut, grimacing, his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Cymbals rang, and fireworks exploded, and a force slammed Jesse face down so hard his head spun. Powerful arms hooked him, full-nelson.

"...Christine..." Dad breathed. He took a strand of Jesse's obsidian hair into his mouth.

He drove his length fully into his son. An act of pure violence, and lust. His spunk-swollen nuts slapped against his son's inflamed set.

Jesse curled his fingers into the roughness of the sleeping bag. He screamed, and screamed and screamed.

"Shit." Dad's eyes were bright. Slowly he loosed his mouth from Jesse's hair. "Oh, God. Shit." He shaft throbbed and burned inside the raw tunnel. "I'm sorry, son."

Jesse felt as if he were twelve again, and he was lying in his bed, his underwear down around his knees, one of his toy submarines crammed up his butt. But this was no toy, this was Dad, and Dad was, agonizingly, full-sized. "Dad..."

"Jeez...never with a guy...sorry, so fucking sorry..." Dad gently eased his hips back, trying to withdraw from this dream that was not a dream. The solid shaft, wedged tight in that dry rectum, captured by his son's spasming and desperate anus, did not move.

"Don't," Jesse breathed. The void was opening in him again, the void that his father's shaft had filled, and it filled him with terror.

"Relax, son, relax, I'm trying to get it out of you..."

"Leave it," Jesse said, voice husky. "Please."

The only sound was his and his father's labored breathing.

He knew that everything hung in the balance, so Jesse took his last chance. He arched his back, pressing his butt against his Dad's furry crotch, squeezing his anus in a desperate plea. There was no more obvious way for a boy to ask a man to fuck him. The paternal intrusion was still excruciating. Jesse's blood burned with the pain. Dad had enough meat to shame all the men who'd ever fucked Jesse. Jesse's cunt seemed intent on ejecting his Dad, spasming and throbbing as if trying to extrude a monstrous turd, but Jesse's heart burned with the need to keep that cock inside him.

"Do...do you want me to...?"

"Yeah, Dad, I fucking want you to--"

"Jesse, come on, listen, I don't..." But whatever it was that Dad didn't was rejected. "Fuck, it's been blowjobs for the last three months."

Forearms, strong as ox, embraced him, and Jesse saw the muscles cord beneath the patina of hair. And Dad's cock ripped down Jesse's dry rectum, feeling as if life itself were leaving, an ebbing tide that would never stop, would leave the depths of his soul revealed like the bottom of the sea to the sun.

Then Dad rammed forward, his nuts dragging between Jesse's thighs, impaling his child on the spike of his need to breed, and all Dad's fears were forgotten.

Jesse's prick, trapped between his belly and the sleeping bag, spat peckersnot, and Jesse whimpered.

Dad's eyes narrowed. He had never been inside a cunt as tight and hot as his son's burning ass, and he realized he had been very foolish in not partaking of this pleasure. Ripping his giant prick in and out of the tight chute, he felt the slow burn of pleasure. His motion built slowly, like a sad song slowly rising from minor to major chords, as his leaking precum and his son's oozing rectal mucus mixed in the son's cunt, greasing the way.

A soft, slurping noise filled the tent as the flesh of father and son began to pleasure the other.

"Just like your mother," Dad breathed. His tongue explored the convolutions of Jesse's ear, and his teeth nipped at his earlobe.

"Fuck me." His mouth opened, jaw quivering, eyes rolled up. He twisted his hips wantonly as he absorbed the thrusts.

"I'll fuck you." Dad rolled Jesse over onto his belly, his thighs lying outside his sons, his enormous balls swaying between his son's legs as he sawed back and forth. "I'll fuck your brains out."

"Jesus," said Jesse, because he knew Dad meant it.

Dad curled an arm under Jesse's belly, pulled his son's butt up into his furry crotch, hammering his boy with hard strokes. The scent of hickory rose thick from Dad's armpits. Beads of sweat blossomed on his forehead as his savage strokes plundered his boy's treasure. He groaned.

"Jesus," Dad said. "Jesus. Not even your Mom was this hot."

"Did she give it to you good, Dad?" asked Jesse, euphoric.

"Yeah she did, son," said Dad, his mind wandering back to distant days when things were so different. "But not as good as I gave it to her."

"I'm a faggot, Daddy," Jesse confessed.

"Good boy."

Brutally Dad yanked his son up, maneuvered them both into a kneeling position, still glued to his son's back, still embedded, still thrusting. He couldn't stop now. He wanted this bad. He held Jesse on his lap, unleashed a fury of thrusts into him.

Grinning, laughing, Jesse split his legs, arched his back, tossed his head, flung his hair around, and rode that shaft towards the glimmering dawn of orgasm. His father's hard body made him want to open more and more and more. He glanced down at Dad's hand, gripping his hip. He wondered if his cunt could absorb something that calloused, that thick, that huge--

"Yeah, you love this, don't you?"

"Live for it." Jesse whimpered as Dad's teeth tore into his neck, maroon blossoms erupting with each feral contact.

"Slut?" Pant. Thrust. Thrust. Twist. Pant. "You a slut?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm a slut."

"I love sluts," Dad growled. He popped Jesse's ass, hard. "You're gonna be one busy bitch."

"Oh, fuck yeah." Jesse whimpered as Dad's teeth bit into his neck. His cock, quivering as if electrified, spat six streams of jism onto the sleeping bag.

"Come for me, boy," Dad grunted in his ear. "Come for me, you fucking slut."

"Aw shit. Aw shit."

Dad's thrusts did not relent, just as Jesse wished. His butt burned with his Dad's strokes and his own enduring lust.

Dad shoved a fist between Jesse's shoulder blades, ramming his son face down. The rough fucking paused as Dad moved inside his son's thighs. But not for long. The urgent ramming resumed, Jesse's quivering exhausted flesh being used like a sex toy to slake his Dad's ferocious lust.

It felt like an eternity.

When Dad came he flooded Jesse. His enormous balls unleashed a flood not even a Noah could survive. Jesse, spasming, twitching, drool running down his chin, eyes turned up and showing only white, jerked as the semen gushed into him. Jesse had been banged once by a motorcycle gang, and their combined ejaculates were nothing compared to the hot fertility his father jetted.

They fell forward, panting, Dad's weight crushing Jesse into the cum spot. Deprived of their lust, they were back in the real world, and it was very strange.

While his father had been fucking him, Jesse had known what it truly was to be part of a song. His father's softening dong, still wedged into his son's pussy, was the coda to something Jesse had wanted to croon for years.

"Sorry, son," Dad said after a while. "I tried to make it last..."

It took a few seconds to figure out that his father was apologizing for cumming too soon. Jesse laughed. "Dad, it was fucking...hot." What a stupid (and true) thing to say. He laughed again.

Dad rolled to one side, his rubbery cock slipping through Jesse's tight ring. He tugged his son's backside against him, threw an arm around him, his lips nuzzling the back of Jesse's neck. His breathing slowed.

Jesse remembered eavesdropping, once upon a time, one of his Mom's phone conversations.He just drops right off to sleep. She had said it quietly, conspiratorially.

He snuggled back against his Dad, his hip squishing in a monstrous puddle of jism, his butthole bulging from the effort of holding all his father's potency. And slept without fear.

#

Dad awoke first, to the chatter of birds. The sun was bright, so he knew it was late. The dank funk of dry jism filled his nose. It reminded him of his high school days, dressing out in the boy's locker room behind the basketball goal in the gymnasium. The scents were almost identical.

Damn, he thought.Wasn't a dream this time.

He propped his head up on his fist, looked down at Jesse's sleeping face. Jesse looked like his son again.

When he'd come through the door, night before last, there'd been a hunted look in his eyes. Life had gone gunning for his boy, and things had not gone well, and his son had paid a horrific price.

In the innocence of sleep, the hunted look was gone. Jesse dozed with the easy, regular, faintly rasping breathing of a twelve year old.

Dad let him sleep, curling against him, enjoying the feel of his body, a wonderful surrogate. The morning wore on, and no one cared.

When his boy suddenly yawned and stirred, Dad stroked his calloused fingertips along his son's biceps.

"You home to stay?" Dad asked.

"Maybe," Jesse, wiping sleep from his eyes. "I want to try the circuit again. But later. Right now I just want to sleep in your bed, Dad."

He grinned. "You'll have to share it."

"Yeah." Jesse shifted his butt, pressed into his Dad's groin, where the meat was thickening. "Kinda funny, what happened to us."

"Yeah," Dad said, maneuvering his hardon to enter his son. "Kinda nice."