homeschooling-for-dads-1

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Eki 3, 2022 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Subject: Homeschooling for Dads (Gay/Incest) This story is a work of fiction, the characters are not real, and any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is purely coincidental. It contains sex with underage boys and sex with family members. If you are offended by such material, please stop now. If you would like to contact me to discuss story ideas, your fantasies, and your memories of family fun, or you just want to chat with a big-dicked Daddy who loves incest stories, email me at ail. Also, remember that Nifty needs your donations to provide these stories, so please fty/donate.html Notes: All of my stories take place in the same universe where teen boys are insatiable, and men like it that way. Homeschooling for Dads – Part 1 “Do you want your Dad’s cock up your hole, Mickey?” He nodded his head eagerly. “I need you to say it out loud, boy. Do you want Dad’s cock up your hole?” “Yes, Dad. I want your cock”. Mickey turned his head to look back over his shoulder with a glazed lustful look and a big grin. “I want you to fuck me.” He was on all fours on the couch in our finished basement. He was naked with his back arched and his round 14-year-old ass high in the air. I finished stripping off my socks and just as bare-assed as Mickey I climbed onto the couch behind him. I positioned myself above him and stared into his winking puckered asshole. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful. My girthy 8-inch cock was as hard as it had ever been, but the sight of his hole ignited a fire in my balls that spread quickly to every nerve in my body. My two favorite things in the world, my boy and my cock, were coming together for the first time, which I had never let myself imagine. I grabbed my cock at the base and slapped it along the length of his ass crack, aiming the weighty head at his pucker, beating it against his hole time and time again. Each time a small moan escaped from Mickey’s mouth that sounded like a muffled, “please.” ********** Like most parents, when the quarantine started, our schedules needed to adapt immediately. Since I was now going to be home instead of teaching at the university, we decided that I would work during the day, while she taught the twins, and as both Mickey and I were night owls, we would continue his studies in the evening while she was free to do her work. Our basement had been soundproofed by the previous owner as a man cave, so we didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone else. Mickey had always been extremely bright, and though the age of a Freshman, he was actually finishing his Junior year. His school had decided that the more advanced students would be better served by completing a substantial research project on a topic of their choosing. Learning how to research successfully was something I had spent my life doing, so I was eager to teach Mickey all the skills I knew. As his subject, Mickey had chosen Human Sexuality. At first, I was uncomfortable with the idea of having to discuss these subjects with him daily. I certainly wasn’t a prude, but I didn’t think any father would be comfortable discussing these things with his son every day. Throughout the entirety of the research project, Mickey would have regularly scheduled video meetings with his academic advisor, Mr. McArthur, and periodically, I would join. During one of our first meetings, Mickey laid out for his advisor precisely what he wanted to explore, and I quickly realized that I was worried for nothing. Mickey was interested in studying the subject from a sociological and anthropological perspective, the historical and cultural understanding of sexuality. I was firmly safe in my realm of academia. “Professor Fusco,” Mr. MacArthur said, “as we teachers cannot have the daily interactions with our students that we usually would during this type of research project, we would like a parent to be closely involved. Though I’m sure, as a college professor, you won’t be out of your depth. Please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions or needs. Any at all.” “Don’t worry, Mr. MacArthur, I’m sure I’ll be in touch. Philosophy and Human Sexuality only overlap in so many places.” “You’d be surprised. And please, call me Jimmy.” “Declan.” I offered myself. Over the next week, I realized that with spending all that time at the office, I had missed out on really getting to know my son, especially as he was growing into a young man. To my delight, he was not only incredibly intelligent, but he was incredibly funny as well. Our evenings were filled with laughter as we reviewed the progress he had made with his research during the day. Beyond our strong physical resemblance, he reminded me, not of myself at his age, but rather, of who I wished I had been, self-aware and self-assured. Once the conversation drifted to how much he missed his swim team. He had become quite a gifted athlete over the years. I swam several times weekly, as I was determined not to lose my connection to the physical world as most of my days were spent lost in the world of the mind. Now that I no longer had access to the university pool, I took the opportunity to do a few laps in our own much smaller pool every night before I joined Mickey in the basement for his research work. “Why don’t you throw on your trunks and join me when I take a dip next time. You need to keep active.” “Are you sure?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to bother you.” “Of course, I’m sure. You’re never a bother.” “Thanks. I’d really like that.” He said and smiled. As the days progressed, it became clear that Mickey’s research was focusing more and more on the perception of homosexuality throughout the world’s current and past civilizations. We had always been an open and liberal-minded family and never presented homosexuality as anything other than just one of the multitudes of facets to the human experience. However, I had my suspicions that there was more than just intellectual curiosity involved in his choice. As his research had begun to touch on actual sexual practices, and as we discussed his findings, Mickey became more reticent, less willing to meet my gaze, which I had found myself kaynarca escort seeking more than ever. I had come to spend my days looking forward to our evenings together, the bonds we were making, and I worried that it might be slipping away. “Hey, kid. Something on your mind? You haven’t been yourself for the last few days.” “No. No, nothing is wrong,” Mickey answered. He made an effort to look me in the eye, but it was clear he was summoning up his will to do so. “Are you sure?” “Well… there is one thing.” “You can tell me anything.” “Oh, it’s not like that. I’m just frustrated because I keep hitting a wall with my research.” My young academic always focused on his studies. “You see, the blocking software on my laptop isn’t letting me find some of my sources because the search terms contain things like “gay” or “queer”. It keeps me from looking in-depth at the subjects I want to review, especially for 20th and 21st-century topics.” He looked down and turned his gaze back to his books. “I have a meeting tomorrow with Mr. MacArthur. Let me check in with him, and I’ll let you know.” I’m not sure I believed his reasons for wanting to have the software turned off. Even if it was causing problems with his schoolwork, I was sure there were other reasons a young man would like to access anything they wanted online. Truthfully, I had never really thought putting it on his laptop was necessary, but my wife had insisted. I felt we should respect Mickey’s ability to make good choices. As my video call with Mr. McArthur was winding down, I mentioned the subject. “Hmm… I thought this might happen once Mickey told me where his research was going. Unfortunately, a lot of subject matter dealing with homosexuality gets blocked along with the more adult material. You would think cutting edge technology wouldn’t be so behind the curve on stuff like this.” “Well…” I hedged. “It’s those adult materials I’m worried about. As much as I know, Mickey is a mature and responsible kid; I don’t think any teenage boy will ignore pornography if it’s readily available to them.” “That’s true. But I would ask you, is that a problem, or is it just that we assume that it is? I know that I started looking at sexually explicit materials at around Mickey’s age. Maybe even younger. When did you first start looking at porn?” “Jeez. Yeah, about Mickey’s age as well.” I answered. “It’s normal to want to watch it. And some studies have shown that all of the hiding and sneaking around that teens have to do around porn leads to increased use, just like other stigmatized materials like alcohol and drugs.” “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” “Besides, for teenagers who may be questioning their sexuality, not to make any assumptions mind you, being exposed to imagery that normalizes their sexual interests can help them not feel as though something is wrong with them.” “Everything you are saying makes sense, but I can’t shake the feeling that this might be a risky thing to do.” I grimaced. “No, I understand. Here is what I did when my son J.J. entered puberty. I turned off all of the blockers, and he’s allowed to search for anything he likes, but I let him know that there was still software on his computer that shares with me his entire browsing history. It’s been working well. Yes, he watches porn, but I think the fact that he knows that I know what he watches and that I don’t judge him for watching it has just taken the tension out of the entire situation.” I thought that I might come to regret it, but with Mr. McArthur’s reassurance, I decided that turning the software off would be a sign of how mature I thought he was and perhaps would lower the walls that seemed to be popping up over the last week or so. That evening I brought the subject up again. “I can turn it off for you.” “Really?” his eyes lit up. “Sure. Hand me your laptop.” He passed it over to me, and I quickly entered the password we had set to access the parental controls. I snuck a look at Mickey’s face wrapped in a wide grin. I turned off all the blocks, giving him access to any page on the web. A thought tickled my mind, and I took a quick look at his browsing history under the guise of becoming confused over a setting. I might have lived in an ivory tower for the last decade, but I was worldly enough to recognize that some of the links were for sites that mostly contained pornography. “The one caveat is that I can still see your browsing history. I trust you to make the right decision, and I’m not going to be spying on you, but I need to have access to ensure you are staying safe. That being said, I know you are probably going to look at some explicit materials. I know I would if I were you.” “I promise I won’t watch anything I wouldn’t want you to know about,” he said. There was something in the tone in which he said it that made me feel that he would, indeed, be watching porn and that he wanted me to know precisely what kind of porn it was. Why would he want me to know the things that sexually excite him? He held my gaze as I handed his laptop back to him, a certain tension in the air. Later that night, my head swam with the thought of my son, my burgeoning young man, sitting in his bedroom, watching pornography. My wife’s and my sex life had long come to an end since the birth of the twins, and though I still had sexual thoughts, I hadn’t spent much time in the last few years, letting myself focus on them. The idea of his youthful exploration stirred something in me. An excitement I felt somewhere uncomfortably close to my groin. I was sitting at my desk the next morning, finishing a draft of a chapter for my next book, when my mind drifted one more time to the fact that my son had been watching pornography. I dropped my pencil and turned to my computer. I found and opened the application that would allow me to review what Mickey had been looking at. Perhaps, I was hoping that he had been spending his hours performing research dutifully, and yes, the top few links were to academic papers. Still, Mickey had been particularly busy the last hour or so, visiting pages with far more intriguing names. orhanlı escort I opened my browser and pasted in one of the addresses from his list. I was presented with a lithe young man on his knees with an older man’s penis in his mouth. I reached for my headphones so that no one else could hear, and I clicked on the play button. The older man groaned as he pawed at the younger man’s head, pushing his penis deeper into the welcoming mouth. “Suck my dick, boy,” he growled, sliding in and out of his lover’s mouth. He rubbed one hand across his hairy chest, playing with his nipple. “Deeper. Suck it deeper”, the older man commanded, pushing until the young man began to gag. He released his head, and the young man pulled back quickly, gasping for air with strands of spittle coating the sides of his mouth. I felt my crotch tighten in a way I hadn’t experienced in some time. My blood was rushing to my penis, and as it began to swell, my hand instinctively began to rub along the length. The scene continued for a few more moments, the young man trying all he could to take the entirety of the older man’s penis down his throat, eventually succeeding. I squeezed myself through my pants as he pulled off the penis with a look of pride on his youthful face. His curly hair and bright expression reminded me of Mickey, and suddenly I could not separate this young man in the video from my son, no matter how hard I tried. “Good boy. You took it all. I’m proud of my boy.” The older man growled as he stroked, the younger’s cheek. The younger man relished the praise and looked into the older man’s eyes . “I love your cock, Dad.” Lightning shot through me at the word. Straight to my cock. I pulled back from the desk. My mind was reeling. Why was I reacting this way to hearing the older man called “Dad”? Was it the shock that Mickey had sought this kind of video out, or was it confusion as to why, when I heard the word “Dad,” my cock had become rock hard and was still throbbing in my pants even now? Was it because Mickey may have wanted me to know that he had seen it? I paced the length of my office, trying to focus. I galloped down the stairs to the kitchen and then out to the back yard. I needed air, and I found myself inhaling deeply, hoping that it would settle me. “Are you okay,” I heard my wife ask. I jumped at the question. In my haste, I hadn’t noticed that she and the twins were in the other corner of the yard, exploring some spring flowers. I turned my waist quickly in the other direction to hide my erection, which though softening, was still quite prominent. “Oh, I’m fine. Just needed a little air.” I answered. There was no question that I was aroused by what I had seen, but also by my thoughts. Imagining Mickey to be the young man in the video did not disturb me as I would have thought that it would. Instead, it added to the erotic charge. Had I imagined myself in the role of the older man? Would I allow myself to admit that the answer to that was a resounding “yes”? That evening, as I was doing my laps in the pool, I pushed myself to the limit, swimming faster and harder than I usually do, then I often need to. My body had been buzzing all day with this new sexual frisson, and I was hoping to get all that extra energy out with physical activity. If I could get rid of that, perhaps I could rid myself of these disturbing thoughts about my son. I stopped to catch my breath when I saw Mickey coming to swim in the pool himself. I needed to blink to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Every other night that Mickey had joined me in the pool, he had worn his baggy swimming trunks he usually wore at home, but tonight he was wearing his competitive Speedo. It seemed smaller than I remembered, more of his upper thighs with their dusting of dark hair along the defined muscles were on display. His package usually obscured, now seemed full as the Speedo cupped it tightly. He turned to drop his towel on one of the deck chairs, and my eyes traveled across his pert ass, cupped just as snuggly as his crotch. When he turned back, I quickly averted my eyes, afraid that he would notice my lingering gaze. He stretched as he usually would, but I could not think but that he was doing it for my benefit, doing so to show off his taut body more than anything else. I could feel my groin beginning to swell. “Hey, kid. I’m going to go in now. Come in when you’re done, and we can get down to work,” I called as I stepped out of the pool and rubbed myself down with my towel quickly, then hiding my bulge behind it, I scurried back into the pool level basement. “OK, Dad. I’ll be 20 minutes or so,” he said before executing a perfect dive into the water. Once inside, I made quick work of finishing drying myself and getting back into my clothes. I felt unbalanced. This is ridiculous. How could I be having these thoughts at all, not at least about my son? I sat on the sectional and decided to distract myself by reading one of the academic journals I had left on the coffee table. Quickly, I fell back into work mood, making notes on what I saw as the flaws in the author’s thesis. I was on firm ground now. I knew what I was doing when I was working. “Hey, Dad,” Mickey said as he came in from the pool. I looked up and almost choked on my tongue. He was slowly wiping down his body with the plush white bath towel, almost like he was putting on a show. “I’m going to go get changed.” Instead of wrapping the towel around his waist and heading upstairs as he usually would, he dropped the towel at his feet, turned his back to me, and then began to peel his Speedo down, slowly exposing more and more of the plump, pale skin of his youthful ass. My mouth was hanging open, both at the audacity, but also at the beautiful sight in front of me. Michelangelo, himself, could not have carved a more perfect ass from marble. Was my mouth watering? As he stepped out of it, his legs shifted, and I caught a quick glimpse of his balls. And was that the tip of his cock hanging below them? He grabbed the towel as he stood and wrapped it around his waist before turning back to face me. “I’ll be back in tepeören escort five.” Once he had bounded up the stairs to go to his room to put on clothes, I dropped my journal back on the table and shook my heads, trying to clear my thoughts. I was not imagining this. This wasn’t just wishful thinking brought on by these new perverted thoughts that were plaguing me. Mickey was behaving differently. He knew that I could see what he was watching, and he chose that video to watch. He had said that he would want me to see that he was watching. Hadn’t he? And now he was behaving differently, wearing fewer clothes, showing his body off to me? Wasn’t he? Was this wishful thinking? Whatever the answers, I knew that something had changed, probably permanently. I now saw my son as a sexual being, a young man with desires, and it was arousing desires of my own, desires that were new and frightening, yes, but also exciting. My libido had been dormant for so long, and now that it was waking I didn’t know if I could control where it took me, or if I even wanted to. I tossed and turned all night, tortured by the thoughts racing through my mind, and the next morning I was the worse for wear. I needed several cups of coffee before I could even begin to focus on my work. Luckily I wasn’t teaching this semester, or I would have wasted more than an hour of my students’ time. However, after a while, my mind began to wander again. I kept looking from my research toward my computer. What had Mickey watched last night? What had he watched this morning? After twenty minutes of reading the same paragraph repeatedly, I finally gave in to my curiosity and logged into my computer. A few moments later, I could see listed in front of me all of Mickey’s browser history. Though there were a few academic articles on the list, the vast majority of the links were to porn sites. I should just close the browser. So, Mickey was watching porn? I knew he would be. I didn’t need to keep checking on precisely what porn he was watching. Mickey hadn’t meant that he wanted me to know what he was watching, had he? But still, my curiosity was overwhelming, and before I knew it, I was clicking on the first link. Again the video began focused on a young man, barely out of his teens. This time the boy was lounging by a pool in a minuscule swimming outfit. The camera slowly panned across his body, putting his tanned and glistening skin. I felt that newly familiar rush of blood to my cock begin to flow. Shortly, the young man was joined by not one, but two older men, their impressively muscled chests covered by dark hair. I couldn’t help but think that one of them resembled a sexier version of me. I knew I was a good looking man. Several students over the years had approached me with sexual advances, which I had quickly turned down. With my constant swimming, I had retained a toned body and that, with my tall stature and square jaw, I had turned a few heads and still did. But this man seemed to wield those features with an aggressive sexual intent rather than them just being features, incidental to who he was. Quickly, the two men began to touch and caress the younger man, which then turned to kissing. The boy reached out to peel the Speedo of the man I resembled down, exposing the man’s thick and veiny cock. The boy greedily swallowed the head of the man’s cock, moaning at the taste of it. Unlike yesterday, I was not satisfied with rubbing my cock through my pants. I mindlessly undid the zip of my pants and freed my cock, which I gripped firmly with my hand and began to pump. Truthfully, mine was comparable to the man’s cock. My cock was just as hefty, long, and covered with veins. I had never been insecure in my endowment, but seeing that men in porn were comparably hung gave me a thrill. The boy alternated between the two men’s cocks, sliding up and down their shafts as the men aggressively thrust into his mouth. My hand felt so good wrapped around my shaft. Why had I denied myself this pleasure? The men repositioned the boy so that the boy was on his hands and knees between them. The one resembling me ripped the boy’s Speedo down and spread his sweet ass open before planting his bearded face firmly inside it, eating away at that sweet, sweet, pink hole. Why hadn’t I been watching this all along? Why had I never known that watching men pleasure each other would scratch an itch I hadn’t allowed myself to admit that I had? My mouth was watering, imagining my tongue swiping at that puckering hole. The man stood back up, and a deftly positioned his cock at the opening to the boy’s hole. “You ready, boy?” He asked. “Yes,” he answered in a low moan before returning to suckle on the other man’s cock. With a small push, the man’s cock breached the entrance and slid deliciously slowly further and further into the boy. I began to pump myself to the rhythm of the man’s thrust. How would that feel if that man was me? What would it feel like to have my cock wrapped in a boy’s ass? What would it feel like if that ass was Mickey’s? I felt my orgasm building, my cum beginning to roil in my nuts. The man pulled out and then nudged the boy to move aside to lie on the deck chair himself. Once in position, he moved the boy to drop down on his cock, letting him ride his big cock. After a few moments, he pulled the boy’s head down to his, devouring his mouth as he had his as. With the boy’s hole exposed, the other man moved behind the boy and kneeled, positioning his cock at the boy’s hole. They weren’t going to do what I thought they were. Would they? Oh, but they did. He pushed, and his large cock joined his friends in the boy’s tight ass. Instead of calling out in pain, the boy raised his head and moaned. “Fuck, yes, give me that Daddy cock!” he shouted. The men joined him in yelling their pleasure. The sight mesmerized me. I had never seen anything like that before. Did men do that to each other? Was it as pleasurable as the boy made it seem? Would Mickey like it just as much? With that last thought, my mind went blank, and my eyes lost focus as jets of cum blasted out of the head of my cock. Over and over, I felt my body convulse as I came more than I probably had in years. When my mind cleared, and I was able to catch my breath, I opened my eyes to see that my desk and keyboard were covered with cum, and yet, I still felt horny. I was becoming insatiable.

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