Quillon's Covert (12 page)

That evening Martin sat flipping the pages of his book. He was engrossed in some Ty Cobb biography paperback, and it grated on Marty’s nerves. He liked baseball just as much as the next guy, but right now, Marty wanted sex.

The fact that it was nearly a hundred degrees outside, and not much cooler inside, and that they were both naked and spread out on the carpet, didn’t help Marty’s libido at all. His dad lay on his back, holding the book above him as he read, and as Marty sat across from him, his back resting on the side of the soft sofa, he found his gaze cemented to Martin’s thick, soft cock.

“It’s my vacation too,” Martin said without taking his eyes off the page. “I also get to relax how I want.”

Marty blew a breath through his teeth. He grabbed his beer, took a swallow, and grimaced. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You know—” Martin peeked at Marty from the corner of his eye. “—You don’t have to like beer just ’cause I do. It’s okay if you don’t.”

Marty ran a hand through his sweaty curls. “Who said I don’t like beer?”

Finally tearing his gaze from the book, Martin smirked. “You forget who you’re talking to? No one knows you better than I do.”

Marty blinked but held the gaze. Eventually he smiled and conceded defeat. “It’s such a straight guy drink. I’ve never developed a taste for it.”

A low rumble emanated from Martin. “Let’s make a new rule,” he said, “from now on, you get to drink whatever the hell you want. No reason to ever be miserable for my benefit. And, just so you know, there are probably loads of gay dudes who love beer as much as I do.”

“Ha! I seriously doubt that. But you got yourself a deal,” Marty said, happy the fucking paperback seemed to be forgotten.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this trip all year, and I came prepared.”

Marty’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean? Came prepared for what?”

Martin sat up, motioned to a bag at the edge of the oak coffee table, and tipped beer into his mouth as he leaned back against the sofa, next to Marty. The way his lips wrapped around the head of the bottle caused Marty to flush immediately. Martin noticed and winked.

Reaching over, Marty hooked the bag and dragged it onto his lap. Rummaging through the empty duffel Martin always packed his toiletries in, he found the single item: a plastic tube of lube.

Marty leaned back against the couch, kicked his feet out, and dropped the empty bag down next to him. He stretched his arms over his head lazily, lowered an arm slowly over Martin’s shoulders, and let it rest gently across his dad’s neck, drawing them together.

“I know you didn’t just pull that classic guy move on your dad.” Martin snorted and picked up his book.

Marty pulled the book out of his dad’s hand and drew their heads together. “How about you stop teasing me already, Old Man, and get in bed.”

Martin / 39

Martin pulled his lips away from Marty’s and stared down into his son’s eyes. They shone with desire, but uncertainty reflected in them as well. Gone was the cocky, anxious nineteen-year-old of a few minutes ago. In his place lay a slightly uncertain virgin. No, that would never do. This would be his son’s first experience with penetration, and you only had one first. Marty had saved himself for this moment—for Martin—and he was determined to make it memorable for him.

His heart swelled as he lay between his son’s spread thighs, their cocks gently sliding against one another, and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. He’d never been this close to anyone in his life, not even his wife. He honestly didn’t know how this relationship would progress, but he’d be forever grateful for it.

“Hey, Hotshot?” he whispered. “I love you.”

His son blinked and then smiled. “I know you do, Dad.”

“Just let me…let me take care of you. I wanna make this good for you.”

Marty’s hand reached and ran a touch along Martin’s cheek. “Dad, I want it to be good for both of us.”

Martin placed a soft kiss to his son’s lips. “Believe me, no matter what happens, it’s already good for me.”

He worked his lips down Marty’s torso, enjoying the sallow pants and pleasure filled mummers. When his chin nudged the top of his son’s wet cock, Marty opened his lidded eyes to stare down at him.

“Dad?”

He pushed his nose into the soft, curly hair and breathed in Marty’s scent. It smelled familiar, like his son, only stronger, more earthy and rich.

Marty rested a palm against his ball cap, scrunched the top of it, and dragged it from Martin’s head. Dropping it on the bed, he ran his fingers through Martin’s damp hair. “Dad, you don’t have to.”

Martin smiled against his son’s inner thigh, marveling at the intimacy. “I want to. Now lay back and enjoy.”

There’d never been a time in Martin’s life, never a single moment, when he’d ever thought about sucking another man’s dick. The concept of doing so now, although still completely foreign, was weighted with significance.

Tentatively, he ran his tongue along the side of his son’s cock. “I can’t see myself ever doing this with anyone else, Marty, but believe me when I say that I want to share it with you.”

Marty grinned, his fingers still playing softly with Martin’s hair. “Well, never let it be said that I had to be talked into getting a blowjob.” With a nod of his head, Marty continued, “Get on with it, then, Old Man.”

Martin turned his head and briefly snagged Marty’s long foreskin between his teeth before letting go. “Don’t go getting mouthy…I’m in the perfect spot to—”

Marty hissed and then raised his hands. “Okay, okay, you made your point. No more bit—”

His son’s protests quickly turned into incoherent moans as Martin dipped his tongue between Marty’s swollen cockhead and soft foreskin.

“Ohmigod.”

The texture wasn’t what Martin expected. If felt exactly like soft, warm skin, and it surprised him; he wasn’t sure what he’d thought it’d be like, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he concentrated on recreating the motions he found pleasing when getting a blowjob, and then got down to business.

Marty’s hands held tightly at the sides of his head. “Dad, if I have to say it again, it’s gonna be too late.” Lost in offering pleasure, Martin hadn’t heard his son’s prior warnings.

Looking up, he let Marty’s hard, unsatisfied length slide from his lips, ran the back of his hand across his mouth, and smiled at his son’s panted curses.

Marty’s chest heaved with unfulfilled deep breaths. “Jesus! Fuck!”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Marty said enthusiastically. “I can’t wait for you to do it again.” He paused and looked hopefully at Martin. “Um, you will do it again, right?”

He lifted himself to his knees and sat on his feet between Marty’s splayed legs. “Perhaps.” He winked. After reaching over to the nightstand, he picked up the lube. “But, right now, I have something else in mind.”

Marty’s head rocked back and forth against the pillow, his eyes were closed at the moment, but they flitted open intermittently and faint whimpers sporadically escaped his parted lips. Martin had done this on rare occasions with Allie, but the hard bundle of nerves his fingers were massaging made this time an entirely different experience. Well that, and the undulating body moving under his touch was his son’s and not his wife’s.

Briefly closing his eyes, Martin buried any thought of Allie and focused on the here…the now. Going beyond that would invite feelings of hurt, and betrayal, and dishonesty. None of which were fair to Marty.

“Feels good, huh, Champ?”

“Oh, Dad…feels sooo good.”

And it looked good too. Martin had never denied that he was able to appreciate the masculine beauty of the male form. But he’d never dreamed, in a million years, that he’d be appreciating a man from this particular angle—and never his son. Yet, here he was, watching as Marty’s dick continued to grow stiffer and harder. It stood straight up from his body, pulsing with reaction at Martin’s movements. He reached his free hand up and slid the foreskin down and then let it creep back up on its own.

“Dad,” Marty panted, “I feel like…like everything is buzzing. Like everythuh-thuh-thing is right on the verge of being too much, but I still want more.”

Martin slid the foreskin down again and then watched it slide slowly back up his son’s cock. Initially he’d been slightly envious when it became apparent Marty’s dick had grown larger than his own, but now he simply enjoyed seeing how much pleasure it gave his son. And, as cocks went, he had to admit it was a pretty damn attractive one.

Over and over he slid the skin down, let it ease back up, while continuing to circle his son’s prostate.

Marty’s fingers curled into the bunched sheets. “Mmmm, Daaaad! Jeeeez!”

Martin twisted his fingers slightly and pushed down with a bit more pressure, and was transfixed as clear fluid continually oozed from beneath Marty’s foreskin. Bending over, he clasped his lips around the engorged head and gently sucked.

Marty’s hips bucked.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…gonna cooome, Dad.”

Martin pulled his lips back, sped up the circular motions of his fingers, and lightly stroked Marty’s cock from root to tip. His hard body tensed, every muscle locked up, and jet after jet of cum erupted from his son’s dick. When his orgasm finally began to subside, Marty gasped in a ragged breath and his entire body trembled. Martin had slowed his attentions to a languid pace and smiled when Marty couldn’t take anymore.

“Oh, please stop…cuh-cuh-can’t take it. No muh-muh-more!”

Martin briefly ignored him, but when Marty began laughing and squirming, he released his son’s dick and gently withdrew his fingers.

Marty’s chest heaved and his legs fell flat and stretched out on either side of Martin. He grabbed the towel off the nightstand, wiped his hands off, and then spread it out onto his son’s torso.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Marty quietly swore and rubbed a hand over his damp, smiling face. “That was amazing.”

Martin grinned. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“But…um…you know, I was really hoping…”

He took hold of Marty’s slowly descending nuts and rolled them around in his palm. “That was just the appetizer.” Martin winked. “We still have the main course to look forward to.”

Martin lay behind his son, spooning, and Marty’s head rested on Martin's outstretched arm. Enthralled by Marty’s soft moans, he pulled a knee up, and bent it so his foot rested next to his other knee. The slight adjustment offered a better angle, and he slid his cock against Marty's slick opening. There was no doubt Marty was ready, Martin had spent the last twenty minutes immersed in working him up again.

Despite knowing the answer, he couldn’t help but voice his slight concern. “Marty, you know once we do this…” He paused and swallowed, enjoying the intense—unbelievable—sensation of his cock sliding against his son’s puckered flesh. “It’s like everything else we’ve done; it’s not something we can undo. I just need to be sure this is what you want.”

In lieu of an answer, Marty reached behind him, took Martin’s cock at the base, and positioned it at his waiting entrance.

Martin smiled. “Okay, then.”

Marty panted, released Martin’s dick, and then arched his back as Martin inched his way into his son’s tight warmth.

“Daaaad...” he hissed.

Martin resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to thrust forward, but instead stopped and allowed Marty to adjust to his eager dick. After a few moments, he ran a hand along Marty’s toned thigh, pushed further in, and reveled at the feeling of Marty's muscles tensing and relaxing around his cock. His son, his own son’s ass was bearing down on his dick and it felt absolutely incredible; it felt right.

Finally, he fully seated himself in Marty’s tight warmth and stilled.

He nipped at Marty's nodule, breathing in his son’s woodsy, aroused scent. “I’m all the way in. You feel me, Mudcat?”

“D?” Marty whispered back.

“Yep, right here, Buddy. I’ve got ya.”

When Marty’s neck craned over his shoulder, Martin pushed up onto an elbow to meet his gaze. He sobered quickly as he took in his son’s serious expression.

“Hey, Dinger, you okay?”