Smashwords

Dad looks around the campsite with a grin, then his eyes settle on me. I suddenly feel hotter and a new burst of sweat peppers my forehead, but it has nothing to do with the oppressive August heat. He breaks our eye contact long enough to peel off his sweat-soaked shirt. Fuck. He’s hairy and muscular — just like the Dom in the video he caught me watching.

“Take off your shirt, son. It’s scorching,” he says.

Without a word, I do as he suggests, revealing my slim twink frame. My chest is smooth and hairless, tight and skinny, basically the complete opposite of dad. He leans down and opens the cooler, pulling out two cans of beer. He offers one to me.

“Seriously?” I say. While legally an adult, I’m still a couple years from drinking age. Mom and dad have always been strict on that.

“Yeah. It’ll be our secret.”

I take it from him, a surge of heat and eroticism passing between us as our fingertips briefly touch. I crack open the can and take a careful sip, the cold beer instantly cooling down my overheated body. I wince slightly at the bite of alcohol, but recover quickly and have a second sip.

“Take it slow,” dad says. “You should take it easy if this is your first one.” Then dad sets up our two lawn chairs, side by side, facing the woods, to where we can just see the glimmer of a lake through the trees. He sits in one of the chairs and pats the other one, beckoning me to join him.

I quickly sit next to him, our arms only inches from each other, and shift in my seat, struggling to hide the bulge in my shorts. Dad takes a sip of his beer and then rests his hand on his crotch — and that’s when I notice the massive bulge he’s sporting. My eyes almost bug out as I take in the sheer size of it. He catches me staring and I look back toward the lake, my cheeks burning hot.

I take another sip of beer — anything to avoid eye contact with dad. I can already feel it going to my head, making my thinking a little foggy. As I raise the can to take yet another sip, dad puts his hand on my arm.

“Don’t get drunk,” he says. “I have a question for you and I want you to be sober for your answer.”

I put the can down in the little holder in the armrest of my lawn chair. I can’t tell where this is going — I know it has something to do with him catching me jerking off, but beyond that, I don’t know. In the silence that passes between us, I finally look up at him. His eyes are serious, yet caring.

“Do you want my dick?” dad asks.

Smashwords

Smashwords

“Please, dad, let me fix it,” I beg.

Suddenly, he grabs the front of my shirt and holds it in his fist. “You can’t fix this, son,” he growls.

“Let’s keep this civil,” Mr. Marks interjects.

But dad doesn’t hear my principal. Dad’s eyes are boring into mine and I wither under his scrutiny.

“This calls for discipline,” dad says. Before I can figure out what he means and before Mr. Marks can stop dad, I’m pulled over dad’s knee and the back of my pants and briefs are pulled down below my ass.

I’m ass-up over dad’s knee in my principal’s office.

“Mr. Petersen!” my principal shouts.

Smack! Dad spanks me right as the principal throws himself to his feet. I squeeze my eyes shut and ride out the pain, until it dulls to a sting.

“Mr. Petersen — stop this right now!”

Dad growls ferociously, sounding more deadly than a grizzly bear. “This is what he needs. Do not question my parenting methods.”

Dad’s anger seems to have quieted the principal. He settles down, sitting on the edge of his desk. I turn my head to glance up at him and he looks me with pity in his eyes, but then I see his gaze run down my body and settle on my smooth, exposed, round ass … and then his eyes widen with desire.

Fuck. I’m fucked.

Maybe I’ll get fucked, the very dirty part of my mind wonders. I shove that perverted thought aside right as dad brings his hand down on my ass again.

Smack!

Dad spanks me several more times — each slap stinging more than the one before. My ass feels like it’s on fire, like each new spank is a fiery hot brand being applied to my ass. I shout in pain until dad commands me to shut up and I’m forced to bite my lip to stop from screaming. Tears are falling from my eyes.

Then dad stops and I hear him panting, seeming to be out of breath from the vigorous punishment.

“Your turn,” he growls.

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Smashwords

“Peter!” Dad’s voice, shouting from across the house, chills me to the bone. Last time I’d heard that tone of voice was when I came home with a couple of Fs on my report card. “What the fuck is this?”

I hurry down the stairs and find him in the living room, on the couch, with my laptop on his thighs. Oh, fuck, did I leave something open? I usually cover my tracks with porn and shit, but I’m always terrified that one day I’m going to forget and something like this will happen.

“Uh…” I say, struggling for words. “Yeah, dad?”

He looks up at me with angry eyes and a flushed face, framed by that luscious beard that I fantasize about at all the wrong times. I push that thought out of my mind — I don’t need dirty thoughts about my dad, especially not right now. His massive biceps shift as he turns the laptop to face me.

“Explain this,” he says.

I can feel my face heating with a deep blush as I see what I most fear on the laptop screen — a muscular daddy-type, very much resembling my dad, dressed in leather, flogging a twink that looks very much like me, who’s chained, cuffed, and bent over a padded bench.

“I, uh…” I lose my words again. I can’t look at dad’s face and I can’t look at the screen anymore, so I just look down at my feet. I guess it’s time to come out. “Dad, I’m gay.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “No shit, Peter. But I’ve known that for years.” He puts the laptop aside and stands up, coming close to me. The dirtiest parts of my brain focus my gaze on his bulge as he approaches. Since I’ve got my head down, he can’t catch my staring and wondering. “What I want to know is what you’re jerking off to.”

My eyes go wide and I finally look up at dad. He’s several inches taller than me and towers over me like a wall made of pure muscle. “Uh…”

“Because if you’re jerking off to dad/son BDSM porn, then I’ve got to teach you a lesson.”

I open my mouth to say something, but am still at a loss for words, so I close it, then open it again, then decide to close it again. I must look like a fish, struggling for air. “What?” I finally say.

Faster than lightning, dad has his hand gripping my throat and he shoves me back against the wall. My head bounces and a flash of pain makes me close my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, dad’s face is in mine, his hot breath washing over me, his eyes inches from mine, his pouty lips so tantalizingly close. While his hand on my throat is tight and holds me in place, it in no way restricts my breathing.

“All that shit,” dad says with a nod of his head toward my laptop, “is make-believe. There’s nothing better than the real thing.”

“Uh … what?”

With his other hand, dad gropes my crotch, his fingers clasping around my suddenly-raging erection, contained by denim and cotton. “Is this what you want, boy? Do you want your daddy to dominate you?”

Smashwords

Smashwords

The man and my dad both watch me as I awkwardly fumble for my wallet. My cheeks are burning and surely turning a deep scarlet. I hand my license over to him and he examines it, looks at me, looks back at the license, and hands it back.

“Happy birthday, kid.” Then he looks at my dad. “Birthday boys and their dads get in for free.” He nods his head to the side, indicating we can go in. He hits a button under the counter and I hear a soft buzz — dad leads me through the small gate and into the darkened hallway beyond.

“Closed doors mean a room is taken,” dad says. There are a series of doors with numbers on them, with each room surely not much bigger than a closet. Dad leads me to the far end, to room number ten, and we find the door slightly ajar. This room seems to be slightly bigger since the door is set a little further away, and the room contains two chairs in front of a dark flat screen TV.

Dad enters and I follow, then he closes the door behind us. I can’t look at my dad, can’t meet his eyes. He closes the door and the click of the lock seems intimidating.

“Dad … does mom know you come here?” I still can’t look him in the eye.

“No,” he says, without hesitation or even a hint of remorse in his voice. “What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. Besides, lots of married guys come here.”

I shake my head, simply not knowing what to say. I make sure the chairs don’t have any dried cum on them and then take a seat. I stare at the darkened TV, waiting for dad to just turn it on and get this over with. Like, are we going to just watch or are we stroking one out? Either way, this is too uncomfortable. Also, dad doesn’t know yet that I’m gay — I don’t want to watch some girl getting gangbanged.

“Jeff,” dad says, “this is what we’re here for.”

It takes me a moment to realize that he’s not sitting beside me. I turn to find him on his knees in front of a hole in the wall that separates us from the neighboring booth.

Smashwords

Smashwords

Daddy’s hand comes slamming down on my bare ass again, re-igniting the fire he’d set off with this thorough spanking. I’m eighteen — an adult — and here I am getting an over-the-knee spanking like I’m a little boy. I grunt, doing my best not to cry out in pain, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to hold back the tears of pain that threaten to fall.

Finally, he stops spanking me and he rests his hand on my tender cheeks. He starts smoothing his hand over my hairless skin, soothing the fire.

“Stand up, son,” he says. I can hear the anguish in his voice — he doesn’t like that he had to punish me. He doesn’t like that he had to do this.

It’s all my fault. I made a stupid choice and was brought home by the cops, barely avoiding a criminal charge. Dad is furious.

I push myself to my feet. My ass is so sore that I wince with every movement. I struggle to stand, but my knees give out and my feet are tangled in my jeans and briefs. I fall to the floor and I let out a yelp of pain as I land hard on my ass. Those tears that I had struggled so hard to hold back suddenly spring forth, rolling down my cheeks. I look up at daddy, his angry face blurry through the tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Even though my sight is tear-blurred, I can see his anger softening. He knows I’m genuinely apologetic. He knows I never want to make him mad.

He puts his hand on my head and ruffles my hair, like he always does. In that simple touch, I know things will be okay. With his other hand and his thick, meaty fingers, he wipes away my tears.

“I know, son. I know.” He puts his hands on his hips and I suddenly feel lost without daddy’s touch. “But you’ve really disappointed me tonight. Your mother is going to be so upset when we tell her the cops brought you home.”

A new wave of sadness crashes into me and tears threaten to fall again. “Please don’t tell her, daddy. Please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you — anything!”

He puts his hand on my head again, running his fingers through my hair. It’s a tender gesture, fatherly. But then his face turns almost sinister.

“I love it when you beg, boy.” He grips my hair and I yelp as he pulls my head toward him, shoving my face in his crotch. “You want to make it up to me, son? You can start here.”

Smashwords