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That first evening I went to bed with the aftertaste of his cum on my tongue. My dreams were exactly as rowdy as you’d expect and, yes, I jerked off until my dick got sore.

Waking up, reflecting, it all felt surreal. Like maybe it never happened at all. But my jaw was aching, my shaft red-raw, and the briefs Dad had stolen from me were still right there on my pillow. It had all actually happened. I’d been a good boy and sucked off my dad. Fuck. Just thinking about it was enough to get me hard again, though jerking was not an option. I had straight-up beat my meat too much, it needed time to recover.

I re-ran the end of the previous night in my mind as I went for an early shower, part regretting cleaning myself of Dad’s sweat even as I did it. Last night, swallowing a fresh-made batch of his puppy batter pretty much blissed me out. By the time he’d come free from my muzzle and told me what a good boy I was, I was barely functional. He had laughed, but looked a little concerned at my unresponsiveness. In retrospect it may have even been an expression of his guilt as he hunched over me, shoulders tensed, voice low, whispering kindnesses and lifting me bodily, pulling me against his round belly and bringing me up to my bedroom.

I could barely speak, and what little I did say was probably nonsensical: thanks Dad, love you Dad, you taste good Dad, I’m your good little boy Dad. I’m at least sixty percent sure that when he left my room he had a boner. My bones were jelly, it was all I could do to stroke my cock until I passed out.

In the fresh light of a new day and under the hot water of a morning shower the reality of the situation was finally beginning to settle in. My own dad had pounded my mouth. A dream come true, but one I had to be careful with. What if Dad regretted it? What if somebody who could use it against us were to find out? I couldn’t tell anyone, and I could hardly walk up to Dad and ask him for sex. What if he said no? Dreams shattered. And sis, she was out of town for another few days, but after that I’d have to be extra careful. Keeping my cock under control around Dad was going to be harder than ever, by an order of extreme magnitude.

I went to wrap my towel around me as I left the bathroom but decided against it. What was left to hide? It was only me and Dad staying here and he’d seen me naked only yesterday. Truth was I was actively hoping he’d see me, towel held over my back, my slender and youthful body on display, balls and all. I was in luck. Hearing me exit the bathroom, he left his bedroom seeking shower time of his own. He was more clothed than me, though barely. He was in a well worn pair of gray boxers and little else. I had eyes for his thick thighs, bulge, beer belly and chest, avoiding eye contact not out of embarrassment but desire.

My tip was poking out of its sheath but I didn’t care. This was everything. This was my new life. Surely he’d see me like this and pick me up and fuck me all day and night, but… no.

He laughed, patted my butt as he walked past me and went into the bathroom, saying nothing other than: “Morning, son.”

Deflated and uncertain, hesitating long enough to hear the shower start running, I retreated to my bedroom and got dressed. It soon dawned on me that I hadn’t actually run the last few pairs of undies that Dad hadn’t yet stolen through the wash, meaning I was left in the same predicament I had found myself in the evening prior. There was only one perfect solution, and I took it, slipping on the same briefs I had found stashed under Dad’s pillow.

Despite the underwear literally being mine, something about putting them on in that moment felt taboo. There’s no way they were going to stay dry, not with the kind of thoughts that were running around my head. Discouraged by Dad’s passiveness as I may have been, I still wanted him.

I put on some tight fitting, high-cut cotton shorts and a vest before descending to finally put my used clothes in the wash. On the way back I heard the shower turning off and the distinctive thudding of Dad as he exited, so I lingered. Though I was nervous at the prospect of rejection or scalding, at the idea of Dad deciding last night didn’t happen, at the possibility of never again being able to touch and taste him as I did, none of that was enough to stop me from attempting to stoke the flame. I was very aware that this was likely a once in a lifetime opportunity, that my dreams were coming true but that if I didn’t chase them now they would dissolve into air, never to be seen again.

Maybe Dad was feeling guilt, or uncertainty, maybe he didn’t want me. Maybe throat-fucking his own son was nothing more than a one night stand to him. Whatever it was I intended—shaking with anxious anticipation—to find out.

The bathroom doorknob turned and I tried to adopt a flamboyant pose, with one paw running through the chest fluff that was revealed by my vest and the other on my hip. Dad opened the door to reveal himself stark naked, towel draped over his back. Instantly my knees weakened. His thick, strong arms, that wide chest, his soft belly and of course that plump sheath and those heavy balls.

Seeing me standing there, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. For a moment I stammered uselessly, but I found my nerve in an intense need for the body of the man who made me. I wolf-whistled at my own Dad.

“Looking good,” I said.

Dad winked and chuckled, then walked away as if it were nothing.

I stood frozen, defeated as he retreated into his room. In my despair I could barely even appreciate the sight of his shapely ass walking away. That was it, I guessed, it was a one-and-done. I’d take those memories with me for the rest of my life, I knew, and I’d jerk to them countless times, but never again would I taste Dad’s cock.

It was a depressing thought.

I headed downstairs and put some trash on the TV after making myself some pity Pop-Tarts, letting myself feel like garbage as I sunk into the couch. Maybe this was all a mistake after all. I fished out my phone and made excuses to my friends about my absence last night. The plus side of being a bit of a flake meant nobody was all too surprised. That didn’t make me feel any less crummy though.

Half an hour later dad joined me in the living room, sitting beside me. It was the weekend and neither of us had much on, it seemed. He asked for the remote, I just nodded, and he changed over to some sports show or another. I played some dumb games on my phones, sulking internally all the while, believing more and more with each passing minute that I was right, that whatever we had last night was over. Then Dad put his left paw on my right thigh and a tingle ran down from the top of my spine to the tip of my tail. A warmth spread through my cheeks and my eyes widened. I lowered my phone and looked up at him. He was smiling, just staring at the TV as if none of this were out of the ordinary.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know. “So, Dad… what are we going to do about this?”

He was silent for what was probably no more than a few seconds, but it felt to me like minutes.

“What do you want to do about it?”

“Come on, isn’t that obvious? What do you want?”

“Son…” He sighed and turned to me then, finally. “I’m your Dad. It’s important to me that I don’t overstep a boundary with you. I don’t want to do something I can’t take back. Last night I…”

“Last night was amazing.”

“Last night I was so horny I couldn’t think straight, this morning I thought: maybe I was moving too fast.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?”

I leaned in and wrapped my arms around his wide body, burying my face in his chest.

“I love you, Dad!”

“I love you too, son. Of course I do, but-”

“And I want you, so fucking bad.” I reached a paw between his legs and stroked his bulge, feeling his pulsing reaction beneath my fingers only encouraged me further. A sudden elation gave me new life. This was real. This was happening. I was the luckiest son on the planet.

“Fuck. Rrf. Son, are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

“This.” I gave his sheath a squeeze through the fabric of his pants. “Is exactly what I want.”

Dad’s great big paws found their way to my armpits as he lifted me bodily until I was straddling him on the couch, my knees either side of his legs, my rear hovering above his crotch, but not for long. He lowered me fully onto his lap and ground up on my ass, growling low and staring at me with a great hunger like I were his next meal.

“In that case, I’d better be a good Dad and give my puppy what he wants.”

My heart wouldn’t stop fluttering.