My son and I have an odd relationship which I cherish in a special way.
It started when Kevin was a youngster. My wife was out of town visiting
her sister for the week and Kevin and I stayed home. I thought it was a
little odd when Kevin walked into the bathroom while I issing. He
doesn’t usually do that.
“Gotta go bad,” he said, hauling out his cock.
We stood side by side at the toilet, gushing out our streams. I hadn’t seen
my son’s co quite a while and I retty impressed with the size of his
equipment. Like father, like son.
What bothered me was, that when Kevin finished pissing, he didn’t stuff
his cock bato his jeans right away. Instead, he played with it, stroking it
a little. It looked like his penis was getting hard, and I jammed my dick back
in my pants and got out of there in a hurry.
That night I was sleeping in my twihe strahing I had ever
experienced happeo me. I dreamed about my son.
In my dream, we were both naked. I was sitting on a straight chair in the
kit. Kevin was in my lap, fag me with his legs spread on each side
of mine. I was fug him.
I dreamed I was fug my son. My cock had never been so hard. I was
holding his flanks tightly between my hands and pressing his cute little ass
down onto my cock. His little hole was tight and g my rod with
rippling muscles, milking me off. I ressing deeply into his yielding ass
flesh and jabbing at his trigger. He was moaning and ing over and
over, “I love you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy.”
I skimmed my feverish hands all over his lithe, trim body, twisting and
squeezing his dime-sized nipples till they were thid red. Kevin jacked
furiously on his meat, squatting and fug himself on my tool like a bug
young colt.
It felt like I was getting ready to cum. The boy khat because he pulled
his butt off my cod got on hi