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"Bobby!" I moaned his name again. His velvet ring gripped tighter around my aching shaft as I pounded him deeper into the bed sheets. "Oh, Bobby! Mfh! Bobby, I--ohhhmfh!"

"Fuck me, Robert!" he whimpered out repeatedly with an occasional variation of, "Oh, God! Oh, fuck! Oh, God!"

My calloused fingers wrapped around those perfect hips as I thrusted harder into Bobby, our chorusing pants and the sound of slapping flesh and fur becoming akin to drums in an erotic orchestra. Drooling saliva went down my chin with each trembling piston made into my stepson. Or rather, former stepson.

Even after two decades of raising him and a mere several months after the divorce with his mother finalized, I still viewed the submissive, well-trained cockslut as a son. He still viewed me as a father figure who bothered to stay and raise him, even after we professed our attraction for each other. Even as I gripped his wiggling tail between thrusts and left trails of slobbering kisses/love bites along his lithe shoulders, the cognitive dissonance didn't block all intrusive thoughts.

He was my stepson. He was my stepson. He fucked against my dog cock repeatedly as a sheen of sweat covered our bodies, and the sounds of our rough lovemaking drowned out the wrongness of our union. It couldn't be any tabooer.

Right or wrong though, I loved him more than anything else in this world.

Going faster and faster, my noticeable stomach bounced against his lower back, which nearly made me shrivel all inside the younger Doberman. I was old, graying, possessed a small beer gut and semi-decent biceps that couldn't compare to my athletic boy. I wondered why he found me attractive at all. I would've slowed down if it weren't for Bobby clenching around my shaft at one point. As well as Bobby holding onto one of my paws behind him, gripping me tighter with each roll of my hips made inside that velvet ring. Like jolts of electricity, these distracted me again into enjoying his college-aged body, the beautiful noises produced, and how he felt around my Doberman dick.

I'd never considered touching another man. Not until that first time with him weeks after the eighteenth birthday. Much like that night, I let go of his tail, chuckling as I felt it wagging against my chest, and I gripped his right hip with one paw while reaching around to touch Bobby's neglected dick, which couldn't quit leaking. I stroked it in-tune with my thrusts, feeling his precum drip between my fingers. We growled, then felt each other's muscles tense.

"D-Daddy, I-I'm about to--nngh!"

"Oh, Bobby! Nmfh, B-Bob...by!"

Snarling, I clamped my jaws down on the back of his delicious neck. Bobby arched back against my strained cock as I pushed one more time, and we cried out together. His cries of an intense orgasm were partially suppressed by a convenient pillow near the back of the bed's headboard. Mine were muffled by the taste of his younger flesh and brushed fur.

We collapsed in a heap together, with Bobby squirming out of the way in time so my shoulder didn't crush him. He also popped free from my dog cock during this, causing my spent seed to leak in quantities from his backside facing away from me.

"Oh God," he panted heavily, bewildered, and tired. "D-Daddy...Robert...amazing."

"Yeah, Bobby?" I gulped exhaustedly, muscles aching all over. "You're gonna be...eheheh, you're gonna be...the fuckin' death of me."

He playfully smacked my shoulder, to which I faked wincing in pain. The younger Doberman snickered like I did, then leaned forward to lick the drool from my chin, then my jawline as his cold nose sniffed my sweaty fur. I giggled like a ticklish doofus at his smaller fingers roaming my sides, squeezing my stomach before rubbing the beer gut. Bobby's teasing grew more intense though as I felt his cock spring back to life, leaking against my calf, as if I'd not just fucked a single intense load out of him (and right inside of him).

"Damn, boy!" I exhaled in disbelief. "You really are gonna be the death of me!"

"Why would you say that?" He chuckled midway through licking my Adam's apple, making me groan. "Because I can recharge, or because I got more energy in the reserves?"

"Boy, I'm not your age," I retorted after gathering my breath. "I'm not young like you. I'm not gonna be making you squeal under me again for several hours." Gently holding onto his arms, I looked into those beautiful eyes of his and asked, "Can we...just lie here for a bit? Like this, please?"

It did not take long for Bobby to calm down from his second wind, smiling as he nodded back. "Sure thing, Robert."

The Motel 9 we'd once again booked into didn't come with many amenities. The rooms remained time capsules of the 2000s, but the room we'd been able to book happened to have an upgraded TV. It provided enough channels for me to hop through as Bobby and I lay together in our own sweaty afterglow, catching our breaths and allowing ourselves to enjoy each other's presence. One limp paw held the remote as the other held his on my stomach, rising up and down atop the bare belly my (former!) stepson seemed to love, regardless. How or why, I couldn't tell.

A couple more months had passed since the divorce. His mother remained a literal and figurative bitch, but at least I kept the house. Granted, I'd been cheating on Roxanne with her son before the dissolution of our marriage, but the courts still didn't approve of her evidenced infidelity. So, she moved into a well-furnished apartment near Crossroads City University, to keep in touch with Bobby. We did our best to remain civil. Hindsight showed how Roxanne only loved the sense of being married, having a security blanket, the idea of giving her son a father.

"Robert?"

"Hmmm, yeah Bobby?"

"Do you...believe in accidents?"

I perked my ear at him. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing," he shrugged while staring off into space. "I'm taking this required philosophy class and our professor's having us write a paper arguing if 'accidents' are just that, or if they're part of fate."

I shifted to look at him. "What do you believe?"

"I think...that there are no accidents," Bobby explained to me, "It wasn't an accident that you fell for Mom, because if you hadn't then...I doubt we would've met."

I laughed. Planting a kiss on his cheek, I pulled Bobby closer to my chest, then made a small decision. Sure, it could be risky, but it beat charging motel rooms to my credit card.

"Bobby," I asked, "will you go out with me to a restaurant sometime?"

"Like a…date?"

My fangs flashed into a beaming grin. "Exactly like that," I confirmed to him. "A date, for the two of us. What do you say, bud?"

Bobby's reply with a happy kiss told me everything he wanted to say. Around that same time, my own shaft started springing back to life between my legs, then against his outer thigh.

Time to show the pup I could last more than a single round.

***

The restaurant I picked stood near the outskirts of Crossroads, on the other side of the city and where anybody we knew could recognize us. Themed around Pan Americana, like the old days of Route 66. We got ourselves a corner booth together, ordered some burgers and fries along with an appetizer (our favorite, spinach artichoke dip), as well as a beer or two.

Overall? The two of us ended up having a really, really good time. Neither of us acted too much like we were supposed to fulfill our previous roles of stepfather and stepson. In fact, I only required one sip of liquid courage to hold Bobby's paw above the table. As we waited for our food to cook, the two of us discussed normal relationship things. How the other had been, what was going on lately, our plans for the future. The younger Doberman talked about going to graduate school and planning to discuss with his mother the possibility. He wanted to work in the advertising industry. I couldn't have been any prouder.

Me? I liked my job. However, the thought of retiring to somewhere out in the Midwest, like Minnesota or Illinois, peaked my interest. As much as I loved Utah, I yearned to be somewhere less arid during the summers. Plus, the thought of starting over somewhere else with Bobby truly peaked my interest. Did he hold the same thoughts?

“If you could go anywhere you wanted," I remembered asking, “where would it be?"

“I guess, wherever you're going," was his response, and I blushed like a school boy.

The check had been paid and I decided to bring Bobby back to the house where he could spend the night. The lad insisted after some heavy exchange of flirting in the front seats.

However, things to a turn from the coincidental to the worrying when I noticed the same parked car sitting idly across from my home, from when we left for the dinner date, return to its spot after I settled into the garage. It wasn't too visible, just in the blind spot of someone looking out to the front yard, but it wasn't hard to see unless one drove back from somewhere.

“Hey, Bobby?" I asked as soon as we entered the kitchen. “Did you…see that car out there?"

“Wait." He perked up, his aroused attitude forgotten. “You saw that too?"

Truth be told, I did feel a sense of hidden wariness as we ate our dinners at the Pax Americana restaurant. At the time, I'd initially chalked it up to paranoia about me being in a serious relationship with my former stepson, and the F.B.I. about to swoop in and arrest us for some old city ordinance law.

I decided to call the police and asked them to send a cruiser to our house without spooking away the stalker. Whoever he was.

Well, ten minutes later, we found out. A knock at the front door led to me and Bobby answering, expecting to meet a policeman and whoever tailed us from the house to the restaurant and back. Instead of a creepy old mammal or a lovestruck lady, it happened to be…a calico. A male calico in his late twenties, wearing a fashionable trench coat with what looked like some kind of noticeably shiny LGBT pride flag pin on the chest. And the police car had already driven away, with the feline waving back to the departing officer steering off.

“I'm sorry I scared you two," the cat apologized, then showed us a badge from his wallet. “My name's Zack Leander. I'm a private eye. And I assume you're Robert and Bobby—"

“What're you doing here?" I interrupted.

“And why did the cop just drive off like that?" Bobby asked sheepishly behind me.

“And why do you know our names?" I added.

Mr. Leander held both paws up after putting his wallet away. “A friend of mine in the police department. He gave me a warning and said I had to explain myself to you though," he explained. Awkwardly, I saw him offer a paw I didn't reciprocate in shaking. “Listen, Robert, I'm really sorry for scaring you, but…" The feline exhaled, “I thought you should know that Roxanne hired me."

My eyes widened at hearing my ex-wife's name. My back stiffened. I felt the blood under my mahogany and black fur run ice cold. However, I didn't show the terror I felt in my expression. Bobby did, however. He whimpered and gripped my paw tightly. I squeezed back, with Mr. Leander's slit eyes—both of them two different colors, I noticed—darting to the almost-instinctual act.

“Did you…hear anything?" I asked carefully. “Do I need to worry?"

He sighed again, and offered a friendly, whiskered smile. “Can I come in, please?"

“Uh, sure," I replied after a moment. “Bobby, can you get us some iced tea?"

“Sure!" he chirped with a wag of his tail. “I think I've got a pitcher ready."

“Mr. Leander, what's she hired you for?" I asked as we made our way into the living room. “Does it involve…Does she…?"

“Call me 'Zack'," he offered that same friendly smile as he sat down across from me, the table separating the sofa from my recliner. My own cup sat forgotten. “And no, she doesn't know."

Basically, Roxanne wasn't happy about the alimony or what she managed to get during the divorce. She wanted the house, a larger check each month, plus a few more items for petty reasons. So, she went to Zack Leander's office and demanded that he find evidence of me cheating on her before the divorce (hypocritical of her, given what actually led to our marriage crumbling). She wanted him to 'hack phone databases' if it meant getting larger alimony checks, according to him. While Zack wasn't going to do illegal hacking, he did do the bare minimum of doing surveillance on me, and just so happened to discover me and Bobby on our date the same night he started.

“I'm not going to follow her suggestions, even if they were legal," the feline finished, “but I didn't see harm in tailing you, which is legal so long as you're in a public place. I just thought I'd been more careful."

The words slipped out of my maw moments later, “Does that mean you…?"

Zack nodded. “I'm not planning to tell her a thing," he said. “Mrs. Smith asked me to find concrete evidence that you were cheating on her before the end of your marriage, and what you do with your former stepson doesn't concern me, really."

I fought back a gawking stare. “It doesn't?"

Neither me nor a nearby Bobby dared to utter a word. As far as the world was concerned, I had been entirely faithful to Roxanne throughout our marriage. Before, during, and after I found out she cheated on me. As far as the world was concerned too, I didn't fall in love with her adult son either.

“Not really," Zack shrugged, sipping on his glass again, and wrinkled his nose before giving another smile. “Thanks again for the iced tea. You won't believe how hot cars can get while sitting in one for hours, haha."

“No problem," I grunted.

Beside me, my former stepson leaned against the recliner. Almost like being close to me would shield us from whatever storm came our way. I desperately wanted to hug him close, in that instant of awkward silence.

“So," Bobby asked him, “why aren't you…like, freaking out or something?"

Nonchalantly, Zack sipped his iced tea. “Freaking out over what?" he asked.

“Freaking out over…what you heard?" he asked, then added, “And saw?"

The mocha-colored cat placed his glass cup down, chuckling.

“Would you believe me if I said you're not the first pair of incestuous adults I've encountered?" he pondered. “Without naming names, I ran into these pair of Dalmatian twins who loved each other as more than brothers, and at the end of the day…I couldn't judge them for it. I can't judge you two either. Neither of you are coercing the other, yeah?"

“No!" Bobby and I shook our muzzles in unison.

“Do you two love each other," he pointed to me and Bobby respectively while continuing to say, “even if you used to be his stepfather? And you used to be his stepchild? That doesn't matter to either of you?"

I felt Bobby's paw rest on my shoulder, and I lifted mine to rest on his, our fingers entwining as I smiled up at the young man I loved. That was more than enough to convince Mr. Leander, who chuckled, then sipped the rest of his iced tea.

For the next hour or so, the three of us discussed the best plan going forward. In the end, I didn't have to worry about it much, and neither did Bobby. Zack was willing to admit to Roxanne that he had been caught spying on us, and I could use her hiring a private detective as a talking point for any further discussions regarding our divorce agreement. However, not in any circumstance was he telling her about what he saw at the restaurant. Not that it didn't matter. The male calico planned to blacklist her anyway, citing her behavior towards him as a reason.

We shook paws, wished each other good night, and then he left after getting into his car. I even exchanged phone numbers with him in case something came up. Overall, it felt really nice to finally tell someone about me and Bobby.

***

“He seemed really nice," Bobby commented as he joined me in bed later. “Mom's not been sending either of us angry texts or posted on MuzzleScroll, so that's another plus to believe him too."

I gave an affirmative grunt midway through finishing the latest chapter of my pre-sleep novel, a political thriller older than the college-aged canine climbing into bed while wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. I felt his toes tickle mine as he scooted closer and hugged my side, while a roaming paw or two searched for the hem of a pair of underwear. Low and behold, I didn't have any. I chuckled at feeling one of those talented fingers of his clasped around my bare cock.

“Aren't you bold, eh?" I grumbled, trying to hide a smirk. “There we were, going out on an actual date, think we're seeing a stalker, then learn that said stalker's a P.I. that your mom hired to get dirt on me. And now you still feel frisky?"

“I'm quite daring," he joked, then kissed my exposed neck. I let out a loud chuckle. “Not gonna lie though, I was scared shitless earlier…"

“Me too, Bobby. I'm just thankful that Leander guy was reasonable…"

“Do you think he could get us the numbers of that 'other case' he mentioned?" he asked.

“Maybe," I murmured, deciding to save the chapter for the next day. Putting the book on the nightstand after marking its page, I turned the lamp off and tenderly pulled the smaller Doberman closer to my chest. “Mmm, shame I gotta work early…"

“Mmmm, and I've an early class tomorrow," he whispered, nestling his nose underneath my chin.

“I had a great time, by the way," I mentioned. My paw clasped his, and I let out a happy sigh. “It was wonderful, and I'd love to go on another one."

“Me too," he chimed, then grew silent. “Robert?"

I perked both an ear and an eye. “Yeah, Bobby?"

“I love you."

Relaxing again, I whispered back, “Love you too, Bobby." And we drifted off to sleep together.