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Christmas Morning With Daddy

It was 1 A.M. on Christmas morning as Zach, the white furred German Shepherd found himself unable to sleep. After tossing and turning in his bed, the young jock's muscled body became coated in a sheen of sweat, making sleep unobtainable. He wasn't bothered, however, as the 18 year old thought this would be a perfect opportunity to get a sneak peak at the presents "Santa" had left him under the family tree.

Walking into the living room of his father's trailer, the young man was shocked to find not only a complete lack of presents underneath their tree for the first time he could remember, but also to find his father awake, sitting at the couch in just his black boxer briefs. The older, much bigger, muscular male's frame looked relaxed as it slumped drunkenly against the cushioned material.

"H-Hey Dad..." Zach spoke softly, a bit surprised as walked out into the room to see what must have been dozens of empty beer cans littered at his father's feet. He stood there dumbly, wearing his own white boxer briefs, the color blending with his fur making him look almost naked, save for the lack of his manhood hanging out, replaced by a well rounded bulge. Zach's father, Brock, didn't even acknowledge him as his eyes emained glued to the T.V. or rather, the young male standing before it. Zach followed his fathers gaze, turning, giving the bigger male a view of his ample, perked backside as he found himself watching an old christmas special. The boy recognized it immediatey as one of the reruns his mother used to love. His heart sank, thinking about what her leaving this past year had really done to his father.

Brock, the older white furred German sheperd stared at the ample, full ass cheeks in front of him. "Carrie?" The tired, drunken man muttered inaudibly. No. This ass was different than his ex-wife's, the old drunk thought... too big. "Hey pops, mind if I have one?" The voice of his son broke through his thoughts as he looked up to see the face of his younger mirror image grinning down at him. He knew the pup wasn't old enough to drink, but fuck it, he thought, might as well enjoy something this Christmas, as he reached down and grabbed his son a beer, tossing it to him.

Zach stared in a mixture of surprise and delight as he barely caught the beer his father tossed him. "Woah really? I-I wasn't serious dad!" The younger man exclaimed, but seeing his fathers solemn gaze remain on the T.V., he knew he was meant it, and Zach's heart fluttered at the chance to bond with his dad for the first time since he was a kid. He'd missed the times he'd spent hunting, fishing, even playfully wrestling with his dad as a young boy, so he smiled as he sat down next to the older G-Shep and cracked open his first beer.

The two males spent the next few hours cracking open beers and discussing a wide array of things, everything from school and work, to women and their best blowjobs. Zach didn't even notice how drunk he was truly getting, but Brock could see it written all too well over his son's rosey, giggling face. He knew that look. He'd seen in on the face of hundreds of bar sluts when he went out pussy hunting with his buddies back in the good old days.

Zach continued to sip on the cheap beer as he finally chuckled out. "Dad, you cheap old bastard... You didn't get me any presents this year, did ya?" The younger shepherd smirked. That's when Brock's mind wandered off to work earlier that week, when one of his more humorous coworkers handed him a bizarre gift as an early Christmas present: a single, well packed, red and white candy-cane striped jockstrap. Brock wasn't really friends with the guy, having long since grown tired of how the man referred to him as "a walking jockstrap" due to his muscle mass, but Brock still accepted the gift to avoid a scene. He had every intention to through it away as soon as he'd gotten done with work, but he held onto it thinking that an extra pair of underwear couldn't hurt, so long as nobody saw it. It wasn't until he looked more closely at the package that he realized it wasn't an option, seeing that the jock was merely XL, which was more his son's size rather than his own, that he tossed it into the trash just last night.

"Actually, son... I did get you somethin." The big dog said with a drunken grin, before he stood up and hobbled his way over to the trash, reaching one big arm in deep, and unceremoniously pulling out the carton of the new, red jockstrap with white stripes. "Didn't wrap it for you, but here you go, why don't you try it on and model it for Daddy?" Brock snickered. He watched as his wasted son took the package, seeing the confusion on his face, figuring the boy must have about a hundred questions. To his surprise, however, all that escaped the boy's lips was a drunken "O-Okay." Brock watched as the young, muscled pup stood up slowly in front of him, leaning on him for support, before taking and opening the package of the jockstrap, and finally, lowering his boxer briefs to the floor... before leaning down to pull up the snug pouch around himself.

Brock watched as, mere inches away, his son stripped naked and shamelessly donned the ridiculous, slutty garment. In addition to his surprise, Brock felt a sense of shame welling up inside of him. Why did the boy have to act like such a queer? Surely no son of his was a fag, and he was going to prove it, by pushing the pup all the way. Sitting back down on the couch, the older male cracked open another beer as his drunken son stood there like a deer in the headlights, wearing the tight jockstrap. Brock could see the outline of the boy's cock and his sizable nuts through the fabric, a chip off the old block... almost. "Looks real cute, son." The older male growled, displeased at having to call his son cute, but wanting him to feel humiliated at the position he'd so willingly gotten himself into. "Why don't you dance a little, ya know, shake the hips out, make sure everything fits nice and snug." The old man mused with an audible chuckle.

The smile was wiped off his face, however, as he saw those white furred hips start to sway, seeing the pouch in that stuffed jock start to stretch as it swung around. No, he thought to himself. His son wasn't some feminine faggot, just prancing around his life looking to be abused. The thought made Brocks face grow even redder than the beer allowed it as he nearly seethed in anger. "Turn around, touch your toes." He growled, knowing for damn sure there was no way on God's green Earth his son was going to present his ass to another man, or so help him...

All the while, Zach's mind swirled with a mess of thoughts. He wasn't sure why his father had gotten him a jockstrap. He wasn't sure why he insisted his own son model it for him, but as the alcohol coursed through his bloodstream and clouded his mind, the young jock didn't care much. He had been having such a great time tonight with his father, finally feeling like he had a dad again after so many years of hardly communicating. He refused to ruin the mood by refusing his father a dance, no matter how odd the request seemed. However as he stood up in front of his father, the boy began to truly enjoy himself, the alcohol allowing him to let loose in ways he was never able to before. He giggled drunkenly, feeling like a stripper at a club as he swayed his hips side to side in front of his father. He thought it was all a goof, thinking nothing erotic of it, just guys being stupid together. This is why, upon hearing the order from his abnormally red faced, angry looking father, Zach didn't think twice.

The younger, muscular dog turned, and with his bushy white tail nestled between his muscled ass mounds, promptly bent at the waist. Further and further down Zach reached, to his fathers horror, until the boy was touching his toes, as his rosy, smiling face came at a stop between his ankles. "Well Daddy, what do you think?" the younger male spoke with a hiccup. As he did so, he thought of how much he wanted to impress his father while he was eyeing up his body, so Zach made it a point to raise his tail up, showing signs of dominance and confidence. It didn't occur to Zach that, as he lifted his bushy white tail up over his asscheeks, he gave his father a front row view of his jock framed, perky, white furred asscheeks, and the pink, puckered asshole nestled between them.

Brock stared in awe, as total disblief overcame his drunken mind. Presented here, right before his eyes, was the sweet, sweet ass of his ex-wife Carrie. It was almost an exact copy, aside from the bigger size, slight muscle definition, and of course, the packed jock pouch sporting male equipment beneath it. Yes, this was the ass that eluded him for years throughout their marriage, Carrie having always shied away from anal sex, no matter how much Brock persisted. With a drunken snort, Brock decided that would change tonight.

Zach watched in excitement as he saw his fathers angry expression change into that of surprise. Yes, he thought to himself. It might have taken a goofy gift and silly striptease, but he finally had an opporunity to show his father how much he was developing his muscles, and how much of a man he was becoming! Zach was certain the expression on his fathers face was that of pure masculine pride, as the bigger white German shepherd stood up from the couch, and wordlessly stepped over to stand behind his son.

What happened in the following moments, however, sent confusion through the young man's drunken mind. For as he bent there, looking at his fathers muscled calves behind his own, curious about what the older male was doing, he let out a gasp of surprise, as he saw his fathers black boxer briefs slide down and land around the big man's ankles.

Zach then moaned, and moaned loudly, in a mixture of shock and pain, as he felt one intrusion, no, two, inside his exposed, naked rectum! Letting out a gasp of horror, Zach cried out. "Daddy! What the f-fuck are you doing???" before the big man growled out simply. "Making room!" A hint of lust buried deep into his fathers angry sounding growl, as Brock used his thumbs to press into, and stretch that pink virgin asshole. No amount of squirming or protesting from this bitch was going to stop him from getting what he always wanted. Not now. Not anymore.

The cries of the younger male echoed outside of the small trailer, radiating out into the cold winter night, as he felt his once tight asshole being stretched excessively now. His eyes were wide, and dripping with tears, even as the alcohol numbed his pain slightly. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Brock slid his engorged, throbbing, eight inch dick straight into that pre-stretched, puckered asshole with a loud, deep groan of relief. Zach cried out from between his own legs as he felt the deep pain shoot through his body. The sound fell on deaf ears, however, quickly becoming drown out by the sound of Brock's heavy nuts smacking against his son's as he found himself rhythmically humping his mount, his mind lost in lust-fueled, drunken bliss. "That knot is way too big." Carrie had always complained whenever he'd bring up the topic. Well he was gonna prove her wrong, and show her that it could fit here tonight.

Hours passed, as the sun slowly began to rise. All throughout the trailer park, adults and children alike gathered around their Christmas trees to bond and open gifts with their families. Hardly anyone noticed, and much less paid any mind to, the feint sound of smacking echoing throughout the trailer park on that morning, as young Zachary found a gift of his own that holiday. It was a gift he couldn't get enough of, and it was a gift that kept on giving.

In fact, the gift kept giving every day. The gift was the reason he dropped out of high school, and stayed at home everyday to "assist his father." No one ever really questioned or cared about what happened to the big dumb white jock on the football team, as he was easily replaced. However, a couple traditions from football always stuck with the boy, as he spent years servicing his father in the comfort of their home; he would always wear a jockstrap, and he would forever remain a wide receiver.

END