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Dad had given me a pretty strict upbringing, so when the new school year started and I showed an interest in joining the track team, he began expecting me to join him on his morning runs. It didn’t exactly surprise me that he wanted to help get me ready. He had ensured I got fit, though muscle mass had always been something I struggled with compared to him. My body stayed ‘girly’. His words, not mine; slender and lithe, which benefited me greatly considering how easily it made my own muscles pop when I needed to show off. My ass was my pride and joy, always demanding my attention whenever I checked myself in the mirror in the morning or tried on a new piece of clothing. On that note, here was something that did surprise me about the new morning run regime I would be joining dad for. He had gotten me fresh new running shorts and... The shorts were short. They exposed most of my long legs, almost to the point I’d consider obscene. They cupped my package perfectly though, but the legs only went down to just passed where the bulge of my junk hung. The black fabric wouldn’t make that part glaringly obvious, especially in the low light of the morning when we would be going out, but damn, I didn’t know if I’d be able to wear these anywhere else at any other time of day. It certainly didn’t do much to keep me modest when I looked at myself in the mirror from the side. Once I saw how they made each round globe of my ass ‘pop’ though, I began to grow more excited about them. Just below the leg, visible only if one were to look carefully enough, was where my butt met my thigh, and just under that overhang of toned muscle was the strap of a jock that had been sewn into the shorts themselves. Underwear wasn’t needed because it was already built in. Of course, I’d never know if the straps were visible to anyone. I’d have been embarrassed about them seeing them, but thinking on it, if they were looking at that spot that closely, I think I could’ve managed just fine. That dad wanted me to wear them shocked me a little, but I could never have said no to him. He knew what he was doing far better than me, and his shorts weren’t much different. Sure, they covered a bit more, but like mine, they also didn’t leave much to the imagination. Snug clothes on stallions could only keep them so modest. Me being a deer, I could get away with more it seemed. We began on the driveway, him leading me through stretches and me proudly demonstrating how flexible I already was compared to my old man. I had to take a bit of pride in how bendy I was, after all; I worked hard for it. The toughest part of the warm up was not sneaking glances every time dad struck a pose that pulled his shorts just a bit tighter around his groin or made his muscles flex. It wasn’t making my lack of modestly concealing clothing very easy to cope with. As we started off on our run, a simple 5km to set the pace and see where I was at, I couldn’t help but feel thankful that now my mind would be focused on one simple task: putting one hoof in front of the other. Even the strain of my sire’s shorts couldn’t intrude on a good run, though it did certainly try. Outside, even at this early hour with no one else around, in the shorts I was in, with a shirt that fitted to my slim torso like a second layer of fur, I almost felt naked. The pouch between my legs was still swollen, the idea that someone might look at me and think, “Why is that young buck wearing so little?”, sending a jolt of excitement through me. I did always enjoy it when folks commented on my body, heedless of any implications some of those comments from certain folks when it came to my age. Dad wore his shorts and a tight fitted tank top, both dark grey, both only slightly discernible from his black fur in the dim light of the early morning. His entire coat of fur was a deep obsidian, and given his size and strength, he had always struck quite the imposing figure even when he did inane tasks like gardening or sewing up some clothes I had ripped. Even being his son I never did want to get on his bad side. Our first kilometre was uneventful. We passed through our neighbourhood twice and then struck out towards the undeveloped areas skirting it, heading for a massive park I played baseball and football in. Seeing it so early in the morning was like looking at a brand new place, only vaguely familiar. I saw the field where the football nets were as we made our way to the perimeter circuit path, wondering if I’d be able to make both teams work if I managed to get into track. Dad pulled ahead, or I began to slow down, I’m not sure, but I watched him as he clopped surprisingly lightly along the path. The way his shoulders and biceps flexed as he ran reminded me that I had always loved watching him work on his projects; seeing those big muscles twitch and tense and relax as he worked with his hands. I shook my head, realizing that I had fallen far enough behind him that I needed to make up for it before he looked back to see how far I had lagged. Putting a burst of energy to widen my stride, I caught up to him, then overtook him. Beaming at myself for having overtaken my old man, even as the effort made my lungs burn and sweat finally start to run down my temples. I could feel my tail flag and swish happily, my brain on the verge of getting too tired to bother trying to stop it. I kept it up for a decent click, too, but my mouth was starting to dry out and ahead I spotted a fountain and restroom just off the path backing onto some well manicured hedges. The lamp shining over it made it look heavenly to my parched lips. I pointed, turning to look at my dad for a brief moment. He was directly on my heels, so close I could smell him. He nodded though, not looking the slightest bit put off by my lack of endurance, and we slowed. I drank my fill greedily, but I also felt the nagging need to pee. No matter how soon I went before, exercise always made it feel like I hadn’t gone in hours. On trying the restroom doors, I found them locked, but, as ever, dad had the solution. He guided me around the side of the small cinder block building, and I watched him pull his shorts down enough to free his large flopping sheath. Who hasn’t seen their parent naked at some point? I had memories of glimpses caught in the past, but with it hanging there within two feet of me, I couldn’t help but stare. I stared as the bulbous head of his stallion cock poked free. I stared as he unloaded onto the hedge before us. I felt my mouth going dry all over again. Shaking my mind free of the sight, I followed my sire’s example minus his brash confidence. It felt weird to say the least, not just doing this in public but also right next to my dad. Nothing but silence and splashing and my own heart hammering in my chest as my eyes darted to my left again and again to see a bit of the tool that made me. Dad finished, turning towards me and leaning back against the restroom wall. The light from the lamp on the path highlighted his long muzzle, his flicking ears, broad chest and bulging muscles and... He hadn’t pulled his shorts up. His head still hung free from his sheath, with an inch or two of thick shaft just behind, softly catching the orange glow from the path. Folds of sheath framing the tip of his dick with mesmerizing power. I wondered what it would feel like to run my fingers along those rolls of flesh, or along his exposed shaft. What would it taste like to slide my tongue along the edges of his sheath, or push it further inside? What would it feel like to hold those two baseball sized balls in my hands... Dad tugged the hem of his shorts under his dangling sack, giving me nothing less than a full show of everything he had. I had long since finished peeing, but the idea of tucking myself away didn’t enter my mind at all. It would have been difficult, given I was in such skimpy shorts and my dick was hard as a rock in my one hand. Was... was he expecting me to... I had never disobeyed him before. I loved my dad and respected him and feared him though not quite in equal measure, but the idea that he would prompt something like this just never occurred to me. I knew he knew I was bi. I knew he knew I had experimented with some friends before. I didn’t know if he knew just how far I was willing to go to make him proud. Turning, I stepped a bit closer to the stallion that helped create me, kneeling down into the lush bed of soil and wood chips of the little garden area. My eyes were locked on the now swelling horse cock in front of me, widening as it emerged slowly, almost teasingly so, from its sheath. It just kept going and going at a steady pace, twitching only slightly when I found my hand reaching out to cup his huge sack in my palm. Inexorable. It was a force of nature, that length, just as the stallion it belonged to was. It demanded my attention and my respect and my obedience simply by being. Now was my chance. I learned what it felt like to run my fingers along the folds of his sheath. Squishy, hot, a little damp and smooth as I slid my digits along the skin. I learned what it tasted like to drag my tongue over the folds of his sheath. Smooth, musky, the flavour matching the smell of my gym bag after a workout, but only as an accent to the overpowering taste of horse cock. He continued to stiffen, making it harder and harder to bury my face into his sheath as his cock thickened and twitched in the open more and more. Before long, I was huffing the wrinkles connecting his fat shaft to the low hanging balls below, still trying to smother myself in the moist sticky heat of his crotch. I moaned and dragged my tongue along his shaft, marvelling at the thickness near the base, the fat ring of his medial, and how it barely narrowed at all from there to the flexing pre-dribbling mushroom head. I could barely wrap my lips around that head as it was, but I managed. Anything less wouldn’t have been good enough for dad. I tried to swallow everything, but all I could manage was halfway to his medial ring at first gag. My eyes were already watering and my jaw ached, but still I tried. It didn’t take long for me to realize that if I swallowed, I could manage another centimetre; if I exhaled all the air from my lungs, another one still. Through the haze of tears in my eyes, I saw just how far I had left to go. I stared down at the base of his cock, that dark groove just above where the remaining lines of his sheath disappeared into his waist, highlighted by lamplight looking like the perfect goal to reach so I could rest my nose in it. I turned my eyes upward, hoping I wasn’t going to be met with a disapproving glower. Indifference stared back at me. It took a lot to make dad break from his stoic demeanour, and clearly, I wasn’t good enough. Not yet. I tried bobbing my head next while I stroked his fat base with one hand and rolled his big nuts in the other. I could feel him flexing every time I drove my face forward onto him; could feel the way his head flared at the back of my throat and gushed another jet of precum into my mouth. He was my dad, and I was obligated to do what I could to make him happy. Fuck if only I could make it past his medial ring... I wasn’t doing anything particularly mind blowing for dad, but having that throbbing stalk of horse bludgeon at my throat and stretch my jaw wide was drawing pathetic little moans from me. Perhaps I thought it would make things better for my sire, to hear those feminine little grunts and gags, get him from ‘indifferent’ to at least ‘mildly interested’. The little coughs I gave as his big head hit the back of my throat, the wetness of my lips smearing precum and drool over the top half of his cock, the hammering of my heart in my chest as I struggled to breathe properly; all the sounds rushing through my head made time feel like it was standing still. I risked a look upwards again and my own dick surged in my shorts as I saw dad’s eyes were closed, his head leaned back to rest against the wall with a look of utter relaxation on his long muzzle. I shifted my head to the side as I sank onto his cock once again, twisting my wrist and squeezing the base of his cock with renewed effort. I shuffled slightly closer, pulled his balls towards my neck and ignored the fact that I was robbing myself of my ability to pull away properly. Those massive orbs shifted noticeably in my massaging hand after a few short moments, and I realized on instinct what was about to happen. Before I could do anything about it though, dad grabbed one of my antlers and pulled me backwards, my body forced to lean back at a forty-five degree angle. All I had in my mouth was an aggressively flaring horsecock head, precum flooding over my tongue and running out of the corners of my mouth as dad took his length in his free hand and started pumping himself to climax. He was taking over, and I didn’t want to get in his way. If he needed me, he’d tell me. Dad knew best. I set my hands behind me, using them to brace myself as he held me back at that awkward angle, moaning around his dick as his head flared wider and wider. He let out a deep rolling grumble as his cock flexed hard, trapped as it was between my lips. Overpowering flavour erupted into my mouth, jetting out from the corners of my lips in thick spurts before I had the chance to start swallowing. My tongue drowned in his cum. I flicked it over the end of his dick, earning a flex and swell of his member each time as he drained his nuts down my throat and down the front of my shirt. When he finally finished, or at least when the flow of seed slowed to a dribble, he let go of my antler, huffing against the wall looking like he was sweating harder than when we had been running. Somehow I just knew I had to keep at it though. As his shaft softened and his flare deflated, I nuzzled, licked, kissed and sucked every inch of it that I could before it could retreat into his sheath. He didn’t stop me. When just the glistening rounded head of his cock was left peeking out, I kept nursing it, pressing my muzzle more and more into the heavy scent of his oven-hot sheath until my nose was engulfed. He let me stay there for a while. A job well done deserved a reward, after all. We always went to get sundaes after my games, and this seemed even better. Eventually though, we would have to return home, holding off on more treats until the next game. He pulled my head from his crotch, ruffled my hair, then pulled up his shorts. The stallion turned and walked out onto the park path, casting unhurried glances either way before I stood and followed him. I hadn’t realized that my crotch was still stiffly tented, but dad didn’t seem to care. At that point, neither did I. I was soaked in his jizz more than I was my own sweat from the run, my stomach full of it, the inside of my mouth still coated in the slimy taste of it. That I could work so hard and make my dad that happy far outweighed any concern for my own erection. We set off again at a decent pace, heading back home. Not a word was spoken as we cleared the park or meandered through the streets of our neighbourhood. Even as we walked the last hundred or so feet to the driveway to stretch once more we didn’t say anything. I did show off a bit more though. Me stretching in front of dad no longer felt as innocent as it had before. I didn’t need to worry about stealing glances at him; I had already been gifted the real deal. I figured I could at least show him how eager I was through my bends and stretches, giving him an eyeful if he was even watching me. The first car departing for downtown passed by on the road, headlights momentarily blinding me as it turned onto our street to start its journey. All of a sudden I felt like I did back before the run, a hot blush turning the fur on my face a shade of tan-pink. I swore, even through the black of my shirt and shorts, the driver must have been able to see I was stained with cum; there had been too much of it, surely. The car simply rolled onward, the driver giving no indication they saw anything more than two runners just returned home. That had been the cue to go back inside, and I was stuck wondering as dad unlocked the door and stepped inside. Could this happen again?