Subject: Anthem Chapter 19 Anthem Part 19: Double Or Nothing This story is a part of an ongoing series. Anthem plays to my kinks: adult Dad-son bonding, hairy men, group action, pit worship, piss play, flipfucking, breed sex, foreskin, the scent of a man. If those things are not your bag, now’s a good time to look elsewhere. Likewise, if you’re not 18 years old, please stop reading. Other writers who have inspired my writing: a4f101/tales from under the mattress, Bill Drake. Natty Soltesz, Boy Mercury X. If you need to rub one out between chapters of Anthem, they write excellent go-to fuck stories. If you got off to this story, shoot me an email to tell me what turned you on: roughrawready(at)(dot)com _______________________________________ Previously: My father wrapped his arms around my bull neck and pulled me in. I could smell Dad’s musk radiating from his sweat-damp chest and pits, his scent melding with mine as he held me close. My son dick was crowbar-hard and shoved halfway in my Dad’s cum-glazed fuckhole. Dad chuckled, then joked, “So what’s for breakfast?” I reclaimed my position, standing up and planting my feet wide. Looking down at where cock and cunt were joined, our body hair tangled in dark, sweaty curls. I began sawing in and out of my father’s deep pussy, my college boy cuntsplitter looking massive as it opened up his tight pucker. “I ain’t done, Dad,” I grunted as I pumped my hips, intent on a second round of Daddy hole. Come hell or high water, I was gonna show my new boyfriend that kind of stud my Dad taught me to be. ______________________________________ Life with Dad as my boyfriend fell into an easy pattern. Days were full of hard work on my father’s construction business. The hot summer sun and heavy lifting continued to forge our bodies into well-muscled examples of men in their prime. Mornings were intimate. Even before the Talk–where we confessed our feelings for one another and decided to take our bond to the next level–Dad and me roused to fuckin’ amazing sex. Fucking one another as both father, son, and now boyfriends only served to elevate our connection. It wasn’t uncommon to wake with my Dad’s handsome mug planted between my cum-blasted son hole, feasting on my trench before burying his fat, uncut Dadcock deep inside me. Other times, my father would be sucking my thick shank to the root, only to then squat down and bounce his clenching stud hole on my Dadfucker. And at others, we would trade turns pounding out one another’s butch cunts in the shower. It was not unusual to have special friends visit in the evenings. The Frenchs were regular guests. Theo and Jim would swing by, together or separately, a couple times a week. I eventually discovered my father somehow possessed a key to the handsome blonde couple’s house, and we would frequently make the drive to fool around with the sexy father and son. Thursday nights were for Stijn. The Dutch bull came on like a thunderstorm every week at eight sharp, stripping down as soon as he closed the door behind his gaziantep escort broad back. The first time he came over, he shredded my clothes as he ripped them free of my body. Every time after, I would make sure to be naked save for a jock that left my greased hole accessible. Every time, Stijn threw me on the bed, spat into my furry crack, and shoved his beercan Dutch cock deep without a single word. His hips became a frenzy of masculine power as he cored out my college boy pussy. Dad watched from the other side of the room, stroking his big sonfucker lewdly as Stijn’s wrist-thick cock bored into my stretched hole. Stijn would slap my hairy ass so hard the bright red handprints would last until the next morning. As he closed in on his release, the bull stud would curse in Dutch and call me a fag as he emptied his heavy balls into my abused chute. My father’s cock would quickly replace Stijn’s in my ass after the bald Dutch stud finished. Dad would savor the way Stijn’s seed would glaze his big sonfucking piece as he cunted me, clearly putting on a show as Stijn watched. By the time my Dad cried out and shot inside my well-fucked butt, Stijn would be rock hard and ready again to have another go. Towards the end of the session, both men would be making out and egging the other on to fuck me harder, to prove that they could both breed like bonafide Fuck Beasts. As the Dutch Daddy would near his last climax, Dad would be punching Stijn’s barrel chest and damn near barking at the stud to pound me harder. The intensity of these two alpha men using me to fuck with each other was a tangible force that made my skin shiver and my nuts throb. The electric charge was an unfathomable, almost threatening, force as they shared my cunt to complete the circuit. I would spend most of the following day bow legged, my son hole a puffy, leaking gape. At least one day over the weekend, my father would drive us the three hours over to New Orleans. We would rent a hotel room and walk hand in hand down the historic streets, presenting ourselves as a couple far more brazenly. Dad would hold my hand proudly as we stood against the bar and watched the crowd. After a few beers and a couple hours’ worth of casual groping and innuendo, we would find ourselves making out in public. Being so open with showing off Dad as my boyfriend filled my heart and gave my son dick an extra charge as it hardened in my jeans. Dad would knead my back with his strong grip, grunting into my mouth as he slid his hands down to cup my heavy college boy ass. While away from our lives as a father and his son, both of us were emboldened and made far more frisky. Dad let me long dick him in the center of a crowded sleazy backroom, and no less than a dozen men groaned their approval as I rode my Dad’s butch pussy towards release. As I blasted my boyfriend full of potent son wad, I lost it and bellowed `Dad’. A good twenty-some men cry out encouragingly at the sight of an honest-to-God son breed his Old Man. Another time, Dad urged me suriyeli escort to blow a quartet of sexy older men visiting from Tulsa as they circled me on a dance floor. I dropped to my knees as the men freed their sweaty Dadcocks, as my father guided each man’s cock to my hungry mouth. My stud boyfriend would whisper into each visiting man’s ear the truth of our relationship just as they were finishing down my throat. Without fail, each Daddy type would stare at us in disbelief, then with no small envy as they pulled their softening pricks from my lips. After the last tourist erupted in my mouth, Dad hoisted me up by my armpits and pulled me close, kissing me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. Later that night as he fucked his paternal load into me on our hotel bed, confessing that he could still taste the other Daddies’ cream when we made out. How much it turned him on that I was a slut, just like him. How much it got him off that he could be so public with how much he loved his boyfriend and son. Dad and me rented a hotel room last Saturday. We spent the day on Bourbon Street, buzzed on hurricanes and beer, walking arm in arm, perpetually horny. Both our asses were full of boyfriend jizz from a particularly nasty flipfuck session that morning. My chest tightened every fucking time I caught my father’s eye, his rugged good looks and the bond we shared intoxicating. We both knew I had another month before I headed back to school, and so far we had danced around talking about what that might mean for the future. As dusk slipped towards nightfall, we found ourselves chatting up a sexy college rugby player with a shock of copper hair that nearly shimmered in the low bar lights. Flirting turned into the three of us openly making out, and the bartender seemed happy enough to watch as I bent by half to take my father’s leaking fuckpipe in my mouth as Dad leaned back against the bar. Rugby Boy had dropped to his knees, deftly unfastening my jeans and peeling them down my bulky thighs to reveal my hairy ass. The ginger guy was near my age, adventurous as he wedged his stubbled chin into my hairy trench. After quickly worming his agile tongue along my slot, Rugby Boy moaned as he began his feast. A moment later, Rugby Boy’s face was slick with his spit and my musk, looking up at Dad with a wild, hungry look. “You already fuck him, bro?” asked the young ginger man, “Am I tastin’ your cum?” My father nodded, then grabbed the back of my head as he slowly pumped into my throat. Rugby Boy returned to devouring my jock cunt, stabbing his ravenous tongue against my pucker at an excited pace. The ginger hopped back up on his feet, smacking his hard, heavy rugby player cock against my college boy butt. My father let out a low whistle, then reached above me and pried my cheeks apart. “You wanna piece of my boyfriend, son?” invited my Dad, goading the young stud behind me. The word son felt particularly pointed when Dad said it, my hole squirming involuntarily. “Use my seed as rus escort lube? My boy’s gonna love that dick in him!” Rugby Boy must have nodded in assent, because the next thing I felt was a massively thick, blunt head of a prick pushing along my rim. A couple quick breaths and I willed myself to relax, opening enough to permit Rugby Boy to breach my cunt. Rugby Boy’s cock had the girth of a ball bat and felt twice as hard, his shaft at least as long as my father’s cuntsplitter. The bartender, Rugby Boy, and my Dad all said the same thing in unison–“Fuck!”–as the ginger guy sawed his enormous cock into my hole. As Rugby Boy pounded into my ass, I was choked farther down the Daddy dick in my throat. Above me, Dad had slipped his fingers under Rugby Boy’s tee shirt, savagely working his nipples as they shared me fore and aft. The bartender had stepped around his bar, his meaty fuckpiece wagging out of his fly. The older man was jerking his thick cock at full bore, and within a minute the bartender shot a quintet of heavy, thick ropes aimed on my Dad’s exposed shaft. As Rugby Guy rammed me from behind, I could taste the bartender’s spunk as it frosted my father’s shank. “Not gonna last much longer,” warned Rugby Boy as his fuck pace picked up steadily. Then he asked, “Can I cum in your boyfriend, bro? Add my nut to yours?” Dad eagerly agreed, “Fuck yeah, son! Get your breed. Cream my boyfriend’s pussy. Knock him up!” Seconds later, Rugby Boy locked a death grip against my hips and slammed deep. Standing stock still, I could feel the ginger guy’s fuck meat pulse and expand. Rugby Boy’s voice seemed caught in his throats at first, but then the ginger started as he came down from blasting inside my stud hole. “Fuckin’ hot jock taking my scum nuts deep in his tight, sweet pussy! Fuckin’ hot Daddy givin’ away his boyfriend’s perfect, hairy, fuckin’ stud cunt! You’re takin’ a week’s worth of rugby player nut up your ass, pussyboy! Puttin’ my fuckin’ baby inside your boyfriend, fucker!” Dad pulled his cock from my mouth with a loud, sloppy slurp. His sonfucker glistened with my spit, throbbing as it arced defiantly towards the ceiling. “Spin him around,” ordered my father, “I gotta cunt my boy’s pussy. Show him who’s the real fuckin’ alpha.” Rugby Boy pulled his obscenely huge shank out unceremoniously, the abrupt vacancy making me keenly aware of my ass gape. I stood up to turn around so I could take Dad’s huge prick, but we were interrupted by a dramatic slow clap and a voice that I immediately recognized. “Hot damn! Trey Aldine!” The man’s tone was cool as a newscaster and deep. As I spun to see the man, he teased, “I see you boys’ve met my nephew.” The man was shorter than me by a full head. Handsome, bearded, hairy as fuck, built tougher than a hockey puck. A ridiculous, giant package throbbed along his inner thigh behind his Wranglers. Rob McCrae. Coach. “Fuck, Jerry,” McCrae joked with my father. A mix of warmth and feral was riveted in the man’s features. Suddenly, the familial similarity between Coach and his nephew Rugby Boy was unmistakable. “If your boy needs dicked down, I want in on a piece of that action. I got that rain check from last time I mean to cash!” __________________________________________ Coming Soon…Part 20: Dancing With Dynamite!

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