watching-my-son-grow-1

Subject: Watching My Son Grow: Chapter 1 This is my first submission to Nifty, so please be nice. I'd love to hear back from you guys, though flames will go straight in the trash. I'd also quote like to find an editor for any stories going forward, as I have another couple of chapters planned for this one, and some more ideas floating around in my head. I can be reached at ail. This story is complete fantasy. It hasn't happened, and shouldn't happen. Nifty is not real life. I've been reading the stories here for years, and it's such an amazing resource, so please donate to help keep it going. Watching My Son Grow: Chapter One My son's a cocksucker. I don't mean that as an insult, I really don't. He's a great cocksucker, makes me cum like you wouldn't believe. Works the shaft, worships my balls, even rims me when the mood takes him. And he's always been this way, since the morning I woke up to find him sucking my dick. But I'm getting ahead of myself. His mother has never been in the picture, in fact I don't even know who she is. I found my son, his name's Max by the way, on my doorstep in a basket one morning. Hell of a cliche, I know, but that was it. No note, but he's unmistakably my boy, same facial features, same dark brown hair and green eyes, same birthmark on the back of his right calf. I was living alone at the time, in a two-bedroom flat that took up the ground floor of a converted Victorian semi-detached house in the city where I went to university. After a couple of days of deliberation and discussion with my parents, it was decided that I would move back in with them so they could help with Max while I was at work. So, with my tail very firmly between my legs, I moved back in with my parents at the age of 25. But you know, it wasn't too bad. Their house was more than big enough for the four of us. It sat on about half a dozen acres of land, about half an hour from the nearest city. It was quiet and private, but with enough local amenities that we never had to travel far for anything. The previous owners had a large family, and had built a flat over the triple garage that had two bedrooms, its own open plan living-dining-kitchen, and a bathroom. It was perfect for Max and I, he had the little bedroom, which my parents turned into an incredible nursery for him. I had the main bedroom, and more space than I'd had in my previous flat. I found a job locally within the accounting department of a successful local law firm, which was ideal. I had a degree in accountancy, and my father had been a very successful solicitor (hence the house), so I could go to him if I needed explanation of any of the legal terms I did not understand. And for a time, it was idyllic. My parents looked after Max during the day, and then I would take over in the evenings and at weekends. I paid them rent, despite their protests, telling them it was worth it to know Max was safe and being looked after. During the week, apart from the handover when I got home, we both lived separately within the house. Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing them every day and we chatted for at least half an hour when I got home, we had a cup of tea, maybe a slice of homemade cake, going over my day, their day, Maxs' day; but after that, I took Max into our flat and we carried on just the two of us. At the weekend, we usually did our own things, meaning my parents could have some time off, but we always had Sunday dinner together as a family. They cooked a mean roast dinner, with all the trimmings; and we just spent time in one another's company. Looking back now, I'm so lucky we had that time together. We grew as a family, they got to know me and respect me as an adult, and I got to know them as people, not just my parents. And they doted on Max, he was adored by them and wanted for nothing. My parents died when Max was three, almost four. They were sideswiped by a drunk driver ploughing through a junction when his lights were red. Killed on impact according to the police, which was the emptiest consolation I've ever felt. Those first couple of months were the darkest of my life, but my support system couldn't have been more amazing. Friends I'd known since school stepped up to help with food and babysitting whenever I needed it, and friends from University, although I hadn't seen them for a while; came down to stay after the funeral for a couple of days, just to keep my spirits up. My job paid for Max to go to day-care without a second thought. It was just a few buildings away from our office, and many of my colleagues' children went there. When the dust settled, and I was thinking clearly, I offered to reimburse the company for all they spent out, but the partners wouldn't hear of it. They told me I'd been through too much, and I was touched. The will was executed quickly, partly because the executor was one of my fathers' old partners at the law firm where he worked. Also, I'm an only child, so there were no other claims on the estate. I inherited everything. Apparently, my parents had changed their will a couple of weeks after I had moved back in with them. They had also set up trusts for Maxs' education through university and beyond. All my rent payments had been paid into these accounts, and then topped up with their funds when they died. There was even an account set aside for post-graduate and doctorate education, if Max wanted to pursue that; with a proviso it would be liquidated if it weren't accessed by the time Max was 30, and paid directly to him. I was dumbfounded. I knew my parents were wealthy, but I didn't realise they had as much as they did. The executor explained my father was shrewd with his investments, and many paid off. So, the long and the short of it was, I owned an enormous house outright, money that could see us through for decades if I was sensible, their three cars; and I wasn't even 30. So, I carried on, as if I had a choice; for Max. He was what kept me sane through those times. I had a couple of old friends and colleagues come over one weekend about four months after my parents died, and we sorted through the house. Up to that point, I had stayed in my flat, not really venturing into the rest of the house for fear of dredging up memories, but I came to a realisation I was being stupid. My parents wouldn't have wanted me shut away while the rest of the house they loved, the house I grew up in, fell to rack and ruin. So that weekend, we went through each room one by one, siphoning out things I wanted to keep, things to be sent to auction, rubbish, and anything I was going to donate. It was a mammoth job, but we did it, and during my lunch break the following Monday, I called one of the better local auction houses, and made an appointment for them to come out and value what I wanted to send to auction. I then called the local hospice charity, and asked them to come and collect what I wanted to donate. Finally, I booked a skip for the following Saturday, so I could get rid of the rubbish in one go. About a month later, once everything had been collected or sold; I engaged an interior decorator to come and quote for updating the house. It didn't need any structural changes, but the decor was a little dated. She knew what I wanted almost immediately, and once I approved the plans, she completed the job with aplomb. I had taken the largest guest room in the main house as my own, with its own adjoining bathroom. Max had the room next to me, with the family bathroom across the hall from him. I had my late parents' bedroom turned into a guest room as it would have felt strange to me sleeping in their room, I don't know why, but the decorator understood. She worked wonders in being sensitive without being compromised, and decorated and furnished the remaining four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the first floor. She transformed what was my flat too as the interior walls within it were only stud walls. Mine and Maxs' old bedrooms were redecorated, as was our bathroom, and the open plan living- dining-kitchen was turned into a large guest room too. Downstairs, she redecorated and reformatted the kitchen and utility rooms, the drawing and dining rooms, as well as updating my fathers' office, and turning the day room into a den. When she was finished, I asked her if she knew of good landscape gardener, as I wanted to change the gardens surrounding the property too to make them more modern and easier to maintain. Whilst those changes were happening, I called the security company too. My father had a security system installed in the house but that needed modernising too. All of the CCTV cameras were replaced, and a newer alarm system was installed. I could access it from my phone, and it alerted me whenever there was movement on the cameras when the system was armed. I threw a little party when all the work was finished, inviting my friends from work and university as a thankful you for helping me through. And so, for years now it's been just me and him, and as trite as it seems to admit, I'm happy this way. I have a small group of friends, one of their daughters babysits when I need an evening off; and our life goes on. The first few years were a struggle, juggling work and Max, but we got through, and since then, I've always been a laid-back dad, primarily escort izmit because Max is such a good kid. He's never talked back, he's good a school, does his homework, his chores without complaint, he's respectful to his elders. Never given me a moments worry. I've always respected him as a person, given him the ability to make his own choices (within reason), respected his privacy, always told him I'll answer his questions honestly, and generally not talked down to or patronised him. He does the same to me, and we enjoy a great relationship. He's my little buddy, and I adore him. So, as I was saying, my son's a cocksucker. On that first morning he woke me up with a blowjob, I could have got angry, but as I laid there, half-awake, feeling my boys little tongue running up and down my cock; I decided to just go with it. I pulled the sheet back and looked down to see my boy looking back up at me, frozen with fear. I've never been one to rule him by fear, so I smiled down at him. He smiled back. Well, as much as he could smile when the head of my cock was distorting his little mouth. He went back to sucking, and I just laid back, enjoying the feeling. I watched him work, and he was dedicated, though he couldn't take me that deep yet, but what he could do felt wonderful. I reached down and gently placed my hand on the back of his head, guiding him up and down my shaft, making him get it wet. I then reached down with my other hand and held his head in place as I began to thrust into his mouth. After some gagging and choking, which we would both come to love; we both hit a happy medium, where I was getting a good deep thrust, and he wasn't struggling as much. It suddenly hit me that I was face fucking my son, and we were both loving it. It was that thought that tipped me over the edge, and with a loud moan I shot down his throat, coating it with my thick morning load. After we both came down from such a high, I pulled him up for a cuddle and gave him a kiss. There was a pearl of my cum on his lip, so I licked it off and held my tongue out for him. He surprised me by taking my tongue entirely in his mouth, and so I spent the next couple of minutes Frenching my boy. Now I must say that I've never done anything like this with him before. He knows I'm bisexual, but since he was born, I can count on one hand the people I've slept with; and relationships fizzled our pretty quickly once they realise my son was my priority. We finished the kiss, and I moved my head back to look at him. He looked so happy. 'Morning buddy' I said, squeezing him just a little tighter, 'Morning daddy' came his reply, his tone suggesting nothing amiss had just gone on. 'Care to tell me what this is all about?' I asked gently, He blushed a little, 'I saw it online and wanted to try with you'. Ah, the internet. I've never installed any parental restrictions. Perhaps I should have done. Or not, given what just happened. 'I see' I said, gauging my response, 'what have you seen online?' 'I've seen lots, women with men, women with women, men with men' he paused a little, 'that's my favourite' 'And what do they do?' I asked, wanted to see how much he knows, 'Can I use naughty words, daddy?' he asked, 'I think we're well past that' I chuckled, 'of course you can' 'I like seeing men suck dicks, and fuck each other. And rimming, I've seen that.' He seemed to be proudly listing everything he'd seen, stuff he shouldn't have seen, 'I even saw a man stick his whole hand up another man's bum, but I don't think I could do that yet'. I laughed out loud at that. My beautiful boy, not even put off by fisting. We sat up more in the bed, though I kept my arm around him and he was cuddled into my chest. 'Now first off, I need to tell you something that's very important' I said, my tone confirming what I was saying, 'what we've just done is very private, and you can't tell anyone about it, ever. It would mean daddy would have to go to prison' Max turned and looked at me seriously, 'I know daddy, I'm not silly' he said quickly, 'I'm not old enough yet' 'No, you're not' I replied happily, 'so why did you do it?' 'Well I've wanted to do it for a while, but from what I read, I could get into trouble, or beat up, and the men could go to prison and you might get into trouble'. 'That's right' I said, thankful he was so knowledgeable, 'So, I decided I couldn't just do it with anyone, the only man I could do it with was you' 'I'm flattered' I said, not really knowing what else to say. 'So I saw this scene online where one guy woke up the other guy by sucking his dick, and I thought that might be a good way to do it so I wouldn't have to tell you what I was doing' he said, his train of thought watertight in his own head. 'Well that certainly would explain it' I said, 'but you do know that porn isn't real life. You need to ask someone before you can do things like that. It's called consent and it's very important.' Max looked suitably chastened. 'I'm sorry, daddy' he mumbled, and looked away. I turned his face back to look at me, 'I accept your apology, and I'm not angry with you, but you need to understand that I may not have wanted you to do what you did, and by not asking me, you took away my choice. Does that make sense?' I asked. It seemed a very odd conversation to be having given he'd just swallowed my load, but there we are. 'I understand Daddy' he replied with a sheepish smile, 'I'll ask you next time'. I was going to stop him, to tell him there wasn't going to be a next time, but then I stopped myself. 'Do you want there to be a next time?' I asked in all seriousness, 'Please, Daddy', he said quickly, giving me those puppy dog eyes, 'I know it was my first time and I wasn't very good but I really enjoyed myself' 'First off, you were very good' I said, tickling him softly, 'you made me cum, and you swallowed it all. Some adults don't even do that!' He laughed in astonishment. 'And we can do it again' I continued, 'we just need to ask each other first' 'So we can get consent?' he asked, and I could see him putting two and two together in his mind. 'That's right, and what else do you need to remember?' 'Not to tell anyone else?' he offered, 'That's right' I smiled, 'you can't tell anyone else, or do this with anyone else' 'Ok Daddy' he said happily, and cuddled closer into me. And that's how it started, my son sucking my dick. Becoming my own personal cocksucker. And over the years, he's improved immeasurably. But given the amount of practice he's had, that doesn't surprise me. He learnt to breathe through his nose very quickly, without me really teaching him. Obviously, the porn he was watching was helping him in real life. He also seems to have no gag reflex at all, or if he does, he's learnt how to suppress it to such a degree it barely ever interrupts our sessions. During the week, he usually sucks me off two or three times a day. In the morning, after work and then sometimes before bed. He'll wake me up with a blowjob, and damn, if that doesn't make a man feel like a king. Of course, he has school and I have work so we can't take our time, but usually between five and ten minutes later, Max is sucking down my load as his incredible little throat muscles are massaging the head of my dick. Then we jump into the shower together, and I'll return the favour by either jacking him off, sucking his smooth little cocklet, fingering his little boy pussy; or some combination of all three, until he shudders and squeals through his dry cum. I swear, the noises he makes make me want to go for another round but we both know we haven't the time, so we get on with our routines and get ready for the day The second time is usually after school. For the last few years, Max has been a latchkey kid. He's responsible enough, and the school bus drops him off right outside our house. He has his own key, and knows enough about the security system to know that he has to disable the alarm when he opens the front door. He also texts me as soon as he's done it, which is surplus to requirements given my phone notifies me as soon as he's dropped off and the motion is picked up on the camera trained on the driveway. But he doesn't need to know that, and the texts he sends me always make me smile, whether they're cute, full of love, and to the point: Hi Daddy, I've just got home. Love you xxx Or longer, lustier, and full of filth: I'm home Daddy, and I'm feeling really horny. I can't wait to feel your Daddy dick snake down my throat later and then paint a big load all over my face for you to lick off xxx They always make me smile, and the latter cause a severe tent in my trousers. Whatever the text, I'm always greeted at the door the same way. When I get home a couple of hours later, Max has usually finished his homework, which I have to check and sign off. Whilst I'm doing that, he makes me a drink. I don't know many boys his age that can pour a whiskey like he can, but I guess it's just another of his many not so age appropriate skills. Then we head into either the den or my home office, I'll sit in either my favourite wing chair or my desk chair, Max then slowly strips for me. I must admit, watching my son striptease out of his school uniform gives me more of a perverse pleasure than I thought izmit escort bayan it would. His body has become lither and more muscular as he's got older, but there's still no sign of hair, but his dick's a little bigger and his balls are dropping. He'll be shooting soon. Once he's naked, he kneels in front of me, and then asks me if he can suck my dick. Naturally, the answer is yes, so he'll unbuckle my belt, unbutton and unzip my slacks, and then haul out my already hard dick. Depending on his mood, he sometimes takes his time, making love to the head before he begins a slow, languid blowjob; never increasing the speed until I'm gasping, almost willing myself to cum down his throat. He looks up at me as he does it, the glint in his eye telling me he knows exactly what he's doing. Other times, he deep throats me straight away, which is a talent he's perfected over the years, and believe me, he's good at it. Feeling him push through his gag reflex, and then fuck his throat on my dick is something else. In this position, he can control the depth and the speed, and he loves it, taking control and worshiping his dads' dick is something Max takes a lot of pride in. And then other times, when he's feeling very submissive, he won't undress for me, nor get my dick out for me, or even kneel in front of me; he'll kneel with his back against the wall. On those instances, I sit looking at him for a while, teasing him. He'll look at me with such desperation, I could almost feel sorry for him, for what we're doing; but I don't. I take a mouthful of my whisky, get a pillow and then stand up. I hand him the pillow, and he'll put it behind his head, jamming it between him and the wall. Then I'll stand in front of him, take my dick out of my fly and ram it down his throat, hard. And do you know what? He really seems to fucking love being face fucked like that. I've told him that all he needs to do to get me to stop is tap me on my thigh, and no matter how hard I'm railing on his little throat-pussy, I'm always aware of what he's doing with his hands as I'd never want to hurt him. I've pounded his throat for over an hour before, with a couple of breaks, causing him to gag and choke and all but throw up on my dick, and he's only ever tapped out once. When he did, I stopped immediately and cuddled with him until he was okay. I refused to carry on, telling him that aftercare is just as important as the sex, and that I'd never push him passed his limits. Although he wanted to carry on, I stood firm when I asked him why, and he told me that he wanted to make me happy. I told him that was not a good enough reason, and we spent the rest of the evening cuddled up in the den watching movies and we order a pizza for dinner. I even let him sleep in my bed that night, something I don't usually do as I felt it was important for Max to have his own space and room within the house; and we just cuddled until we fell asleep. In the morning, thankfully a Saturday, we just cuddled some more, and I explained to him that sex was never about just wanting to make someone else happy, it was always a meeting of equals. I'm not sure he got the full message, but at least I planted the seed in his head for him to chew over later on. I also introduced him to the concept of a safe word, not a conversation I ever envisaged having when I found him on my doorstep, and we agreed 'banana' would be ours. But on those night when he wants Daddy to take control and punish his mouth, I'm more than happy to rise to the occasion. One that sticks out in my mind, and is guaranteed to make me hard, is one Friday night about 6 months ago. I was at work, I'd just got the notification telling me there was movement on the driveway, and I logged in remotely from my phone and watched him walk up the driveway. A few seconds later, another notification telling me the alarm was going off, then another telling me it was silenced with the code. I waited for the text, and sure enough, a couple of seconds later I received it: Hi Daddy, I'm home from school. I'm feeling very horny today, but I feel like it want you to be in charge. Can you fuck my throat for me? I've been thinking about it all day, and I haven't eaten anything since breakfast so I don't get too sick. I've also got a little surprise for you. Can you text me when you're nearly home, I'll be in the den when you get home waiting for you. I love you Daddy xxx How can he manage to be so fucking cute and so fucking sleazy in the same text? I swear, I love that boy more than life itself. I couldn't really focus for the next couple of hours, and given it was a Friday afternoon, I managed to leave early. I did as Max asked and text him when I was about 10 minutes away from home. I pulled up, and walked through the front door. I couldn't see or hear Max, but I put my briefcase in my home office, and the headed into the den as requested. There he was, knelt against the wall, a pillow under his knees and one behind his head. He was wearing his school uniform on his top half, complete with the dark blue blazer and pale blue and gold striped tie. He looked to be naked on his bottom half, but I couldn't quite be sure. He was also wearing what looked like a length of thick black fabric tied around his head as a blindfold. Fuck, he looked hot. I walked towards him, passed where I usually sit whilst he services me, and sat on the table was my usually whisky on ice. I took a sip and walked over to him and crouched down. 'You look really fucking sexy there, son' I growled, Max giggled back at me, I'd allowed him to use swear words during sex play for years now, but he always found them funny. 'Hi Daddy' he said with a smile, 'Is this my surprise?' I asked, 'my beautiful boy blindfolded and waiting for Daddy to come home from work and fuck his face?' 'It's part of it, Daddy' he replied breathily, 'Then where's the rest?' Max simply stood up so I was eye-level with his crotch. My boy wasn't naked from the waist down. Somehow, he'd managed to get his hands on a jockstrap, dark blue to match his blazer. I didn't realise they made them that small, but thank fuck they did. Max looked ridiculously hot, a pseudo-innocent schoolboy from the waist up, and my sexy little cocksucker from the waist down. He turned around without any prompting and out his hands against the wall, pushing his little pussy out to me. The straps framed his little cheeks perfectly. 'Is it a good surprise Daddy?' he asked. I quickly wondered if Max even knew what a rhetorical question was, but quickly let that thought go as I dived in and ate his little butt. As orally-fixated as Max was, he didn't often ask to be rimmed, though he sure as hell loved rimming me; so I always took advantage of the times when we wanted it. He tasted perfect, clean but with the days sweat there, and I ate like a fucking king, eating my boys' pussy like my life depended on it. Although his hole was still cherry, I could still slip my tongue or a couple of fingers up there without much complaint. He pushed back against my tongue, and I knew it wouldn't be long before he asked me to fuck him. Eventually, he reached back and tapped the side of my head. I pulled back and looked, and he was holding a little brown bottle for me. I love poppers, and I introduced Max to them about 18 months ago, and he seems to love them too. Of course, given his age, I limit his hits, but when he's flying high, he seems to double down on my dick like a boy possessed. I took the bottle, and stood up, my dick now out of my fly, brushing up against his pink little pussy. He pushed back and moaned, but I pulled away. This wasn't the time or the place for that. 'Soon, baby boy' I grunted. He sighed back at me. 'Get back on your fucking knees' I barked, and Max turned and dropped almost instantly. He felt around for the discarded pillow, and once found he put it behind his head and knelt there, waiting. 'Tongue out, slut' I ordered, and he immediately complied. I sat the head of my dick on his tongue, the size difference still such a fucking turn on. Max moaned, but knew not to move. I unscrewed the bottle and moved it down to under one of Maxs' nostrils, blocking the other with my thumb. He took a deep hit, before swapping nostrils and doing to same again. 'Again' I barked, He shuddered but complied. This was more than he'd ever taken in one go, but he'd worked me up and I acted accordingly. He breathed out the final huff with a groan, and I began to slowly thrust my dick into his mouth. As I slowly sawed in and out, I took the poppers and took six deep hits before screwing the lid back on and setting the bottle on a nearby table. 'Ready, faggot?' I'd introduced dirty talk and name-calling into our play years ago, and he knew I meant nothing by it. I loved my son, and he knew it, whatever names I may call him in the heat of the moment. Max moaned at me, which is all he could really do given at least six and half inches of his Dads' cock was currently in his mouth. I held his head in both hands and settled myself balls deep in his throat. He gagged a little, so I pulled back ever so slightly and rammed back in. He moaned at me, and I knew my little popperslut was in the zone. So I went to work, fucking kocaeli anal yapan escort his little pussy mouth for all I was worth. How he takes it like he does is beyond me, but I'm not asking questions. It took about 25 minutes of continued throat fucking before Max had his first dry cum. Honestly, he orgasms just from me fucking his face. I mean, it's probably a sensory overload: almost nine inches of Dad-meat ploughing into his throat, the poppers, the lack of oxygen, his inability to move much, his throat spasming almost continually against its familial invader; but he started shaking and moaning and shuddering whilst his head is kept forcibly still and I fuck through it, ignoring his moans and groans and the endless strings of throat slime and mucus and god knows what that's continuously running out of his mouth around my dick or shooting out of his nose. As he comes down from his first climax, I pull all the way out and he gasps down lungful's of fresh air; the only proper breaths he's taken for nigh on half an hour. I crouch down and look at my pride and joy, sliding the blindfold up slightly, and my heart could burst. His eyes are red and puffy, and he's been crying. His nose is running. His lips, normally boy-sized are red and swollen, and covered in all sorts of fluids, which are running down his chin and his neck and onto his school uniform. It's fucking ruined, covered in pre- cum, saliva, mucus, throat slime and what I imagine are the last remnants of his breakfast. God, I love this boy. 'You ok, buddy?' I asked quietly and his eyes focus on me properly. He nods vigorously before saying 'yes Daddy' in an uncharacteristically raspy tone. I look led down at his crotch, and his little nail is steel hard in his jock. I reach down and massage it slowly, before leaning in to kiss him gently. He moaned into my mouth loudly, and I imagine I could probably bring him to another dry cum very quickly, but decide to make him work for it. I break the kiss and ask 'more?' He nods and whispers 'more!', so I reach for the poppers and I pass the bottle backwards and forwards between us, feeding him six deep hits and myself eight this time. I watch as his eyes behind to grow darker and back in his head. 'Ready?' I ask At this point, he's beyond words so he just opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, a string of drool already heading south to his ruined uniform. I pull his blindfold back down, stand up and get back to fucking his throat. I made him dry cum twice more over the next 45 minutes, feeding him bigger and bigger doses of poppers after each one. After his last, I told him that I was close to cumming and once my dick was in his throat, it wasn't coming back out until I had fed him what was probably going to be an incredible load. He groaned around the head of my dick, and I grasped the back of his head with my left hand, fingers spread out, holding my son in place like some kind of fucked up human fleshjack; and I slid in. No gagging, no retching, no resistance at all; I think I'd literally facefucked all the fight out of his body. I began to brutally ram into this throat, and with my right hand I held the bottle up to my nose and snorted almost continuously for around five minutes, fighting off the urge to cum for as long as possible. But eventually it was too much, and with a loud yell I shot down my sons' throat. I held my dick balls deep for almost a minute, and I felt like I was shooting the whole time. His little throat was spasming and retching for most of it but I couldn't bring myself to stop. He hadn't tapped out yet, and I was waiting for it, but eventually I pulled out. Well, I sort of collapsed down onto him, meaning my dick had no choice but to slide its way back up and out his gullet. He gasped again, and this time when I pulled the blindfold up, completely this time; my son stared back at me with a mixture of wonder and shock and lust and fear, and without really planning to, I started making out with him. Tasting my spunk in his mouth, mixed with every fluid his body had produced in a futile attempt to repel my cock. We must have made out for at least ten minutes before I came a little more to my senses, found the lid for the poppers and screwed it back on. I lifted his body, which felt limp and heavy, and his head fell forward onto my chest. 'I love you with all my heart, Daddy' said Max in a very raspy, tired voice. Fucking hell, I'd literally just subjected my son to a throat fucking 95% of adults couldn't withstand, never mind want, and he was telling me he loved me wholeheartedly. I was the luckiest man on the planet. 'I love you too my sweet boy, more than anything in the whole world '. I stood up and made straight for my bedroom. As I stood and steadied the both of us, my hands naturally fell to his butt, which was somehow wet with throat slime and spit and whatever else had made it this far south. In fact, as he pressed into my chest, my shirt became soaked. As I walked, my fingers explored his smooth, slimy butt and my fingers found his little pink pussy. I played with it gently as we climbed the stairs, the bouncing motion and my fingers making Max giggled and squirm softly. 'You're amazing, son' I whispered down into the side of his head, 'you know that?' 'I'm all yours Daddy' he whispered back, kissing my chest gently. Once we were in the bedroom, I laid him on the bed and left him there. I quickly went into my adjoining bathroom and began drawing a bath, making sure there were lots of bubbles and a couple of drops of lavender oil. Once the bath was running, I went back into the bedroom to find Max exactly where I'd left him. I sat him up on the bed, and began to slowly undress him. His uniform was ruined, it would probably take a couple of runs through the washing machine to get everything out, but that was a problem for later. Once he was naked save for his sexy little jock, I propped him back on my pillows whilst I undressed too. When I was naked, I asked Max to stand in front of me whilst I sat on the bed. My dick was still half-hard, bloated and red from earlier as I ran my hands down his body. He was both damp with sweat and the fruits of our labours. The pouch of his jock, finally not tented by his cute little boy dick, was dark with moisture. 'Where did you get this?' I asked him quietly, 'We got given them at school' he mumbled back, 'ready for rugby season', I thanked whatever perv designed and chose these for my boy. 'Let's get you naked and you can have a bath with Daddy' I slipped the jock down off his legs, picked him up again and carried him through into the bathroom. I checked the temperature, and the climbed in, Max still in my arms. We spent about an hour in the bath together, just relaxing and cuddling, before spending the rest of the evening doing the same in my bed, watching one of his favourite Marvel films and eating pizza. He fell asleep quickly after dinner, and I slipped out to throw all our clothes in the washing machine to wash overnight before climbing back into bed with my boy. He hadn't moved, and I turned out all the lights, pulled him into me so he was the little spoon and fell asleep with the feel of his body against mine and the clean smell of his shampoo and hair in my nostrils. That was near enough six months ago now, and we both look back on the evening as a turning point in our relationship. He's continued to grow in every aspect, and I've enjoyed every moment of it. The sex has become rougher, he's become simultaneously submissive and dominant. Is there such a thing as dominant oral bottom? Because if there is, Max certainly is one. He tells me what he wants and how he wants me to dominate him, and then let's me do it. His pussy is still cherry, but I've had a thought on that, which I haven't shared with him, but he'll know when the time's right. About a month before his 10th birthday, we were on our way home from the supermarket when I asked him what presents he would like. I know it's awful, but I tend to spoil him. He has no grandparents, no aunts or uncles, no mother, no siblings; so he usually only gets presents from me, a couple of my close friends, and some of his friends from school. He reeled off some things he would like, and I asked him to write me a list. I had some surprises in store too, so it wouldn't all be things he'd asked for. But after he finished, there was an odd sort of tension in the air, and he seemed a little sheepish. 'What's the matter baby?' I asked, rubbing his thigh gently. 'It doesn't matter' he mumbled so quietly, I barely heard him. 'No, go on' I urged him, 'you know there's nothing you can't tell me' He paused for a bit. 'I want to try sucking another man's dick' he said, quieter still 'Ok' I replied, I've been imaging this day was coming but I didn't know when it was going to happen. 'But I know I can't' he continued, 'we'd all get in trouble, and I don't want to lose you' 'You're not going to lose me baby' I said quickly, rubbing his thigh again reassuringly, 'but let me have a think on it. This isn't a no, but it's not a yes. I want you to be able to explore the way you want to, but obviously we need to keep you safe. So can I just think about logistics for a while? Can you accept that?' 'Yes daddy' He seemed genuinely surprised I'd agreed to his request. 'But in the meantime, please don't try anything on your own, ok? Can you promise me that?' 'I promise, daddy' he said sweetly, and he leaned over to kiss the side of my cheek whilst I drove.