Late For Class
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked, popping my head around the shower curtain.
Beau looked up from the sink, toothbrush in hand, a froth of toothpaste foaming his lips as he looked at me quizzically. That big, chunky, hairy muscle ass of his bulged spectacularly, the way his back was arched, all unintentionally inviting. He was looking pretty damn spectacular all over, all thick and plush-muscled, big rounded muscles bulging across his back, shoulders and upper arms, those twin mounds of hard, round glutes with just the right amount of jiggle to them when he walked, leading down to his powerful, chunky thighs. He’d kept his football power alright, even though he just played varsity flag games now. He was more focused on hitting the textbooks, rather than the playbooks now that he was getting into his sophomore year. Still, he’d never looked better.
“I’m gonna be late for class,” he said after spitting the toothpaste out.
“The hell with that,” I growled, reaching out to snag his elbow and tugging him back towards me. He didn’t resist too much, especially when my head leaned into his, finding his lips parting, tongue ready to dance with mine again, just like we’d been doing the last ten minutes in the shower. All morning in my bed before that. And most of last night too.
“Dude, come on,” he sighed reluctantly when we came up for air, but not yet puling away from my big, wet hands, leaving wet imprints all over his thick flesh as I pawed at him. He just felt too damn good not to touch, y’know? Getting his beef on, becoming a powerful, thick young bull of an ex-jock, just like me.
“We got a little time,” I grinned, leaning in to lick up the thickness of his neck, up to that special spot behind his ear, getting rewarded with a light shiver all over from him. “I’ll drop you off, kid.”
“You gonna pick me up again afterwards too?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Just like high school all over again…”
“Not quite,” I growled. “Because I wasn’t bringing you home to tap this fine god damn ass of yours again, back then.”
This time he was the one hungrily kissing me, flexing those mighty buns of his in my hands, knowing exactly what I liked.
“Not that we didn’t both want you to, Dad,” he grunted against my lips, before playing his talented young tongue back between mine, seeking my tongue again. And finding it, and then some.
“Damn right, buddy,” I grunted back. “Wish I had. But that was then, and this is now…”
“And if we’re gonna do it, you need to get your big ass out of the shower,” he said. “I ain’t got time to get wet and dry off all over again.”
I yanked the shower curtain back, shut off the water, stepped out and wrapped him up in my big arms again, kissing him with feverish intensity as I backed him up against the vanity, feeling our cocks throb up hard between us. We’d been doing this about a year now, and it still felt a little like a honeymoon in a way. The way our cocks matched, thick and hard and uncut, beefy and not too tall, just like the rest of us, still blew my mind. Especially getting to explore them with each other, making them shoot our cum for each other every way we could think of, and learning a few new ones along the way besides. He was making me feel like I was 20 all over again, not 45.
I might have been the one initiating this, all tooled up after washing his epic ex-jock body clean of the remnants of our morning fuckfest, rinsing my cum from the depths of his furry trench and hole, but Beau took over now, mindful of the time we had. We both loved the slow, long, deep, exploratory times, but sometimes you needed to just get down to business, scratch the itch for a little while longer, sate the needs to get you through the day, until you could get back to the slow, deep, long stuff.
He squatted down before me, big thighs bulging so fucking sexily as he did, taking my big, hard Dad cock in his fist and wrapping his talented lips and tongue around it. I reached up to grab the shower curtain rail for support, my other hand on the back of his short, damp hair, surrendering almost immediately to his natural skill.The cocksucking skill he’d been honing on his buds, his teammates, even that hot young assistant football coach since he was 16.
Even with just a couple minutes’ work, lashing my big head with his agile tongue, cupping my big Dad balls with his free hand, he had me leaking, roiling, ready to rock and roll. But this was more of a lube job than a blow job. He came up off of my dick with an audible pop, grinning and licking his lips, slipping up my wet body to kiss me, let me taste myself. Then he cupped his palm under our working mouths, and we both spat into it, before he slapped it on the throbbing wetness of my cock. So fucking sexy.
“Come on, big guy,” he growled, turning around to grab hold of the vanity, arching his back, thrusting that epic, beefy jock tail of his back at me as he put one knee up on the countertop, revealing the dark-furred depths of his trench, and the salty pinkness of his pucker deep within. “Get on up in your boy, Dad.”
I had to work quick, but I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure, so I dropped to my knees on the bathmat, clapped both big hands on his cheeks - growling at the light jiggle of that incredible flesh as I did - and just burrowed my stubbly face deep inside of him. Immediately he let out that deep, low moan of lust I loved hearing so much, loved driving out of him. He leaned over more, spread himself even more open, presenting that pink, pulsing, hairy hole of his for my tongue. And I obliged him, with deep, focused, spit-dripping licks and laps, thrusts, teasing him open to paint him with the same spit that was dripping off my cock. I could’ve done this the rest of our time, licked and tonguefucked him until he shot his cum all over the sink and mirror, but I wanted inside of him. Wanted to give him something to think about, squirming around in his chair through his classes, palming the big bulge of his cock, barely hidden inside of his shirts under his desk.
So I stepped up reluctantly, hocked another wad of spit into my palm, slicked my throbbing, precum-dripping shaft up with it, then pressed up to his most private place. The one he said he reserved for me now. He didn’t have to do that for me - I wanted him to fuck around with his hot young buds, and then tell me about it, or better yet, include me in it - but for now, I was glad he did, as I felt him open up and take me inside of him. He was tight, yeah, tight as a drum, almost as tight as the first time I got up inside him like this last summer, but we’d had a lot of practice since then, and I knew he could take the long, deep slide of me in one thrust. So I did just that.
“Ah fuck Dad, you big-dicked motherfucker!” he growled, eyes locking on mine in the mirror. They were hot with lust, hot for me, so I gave him more of what he wanted. One hand on his hip, the other reaching around him to work his big, tasty cock over, as I began to give him the fuck he needed, the fuck we had time for. We could take it slow and deep later. I could take him slow and deep later, if he wanted to.
For now though, we worked hard and fast, working together, Beau fucking himself on me almost as much as I was fucking up into him. The little room echoed with the slap of flesh on flesh, our deep, husky, lusty grunts, a low stream of dirty talk and moans, the wet slick sounds of his cock juicing in my hand as we both approached our peak.
“Cum in me, Dad,” he moaned, eyes hard and needy on mine in the mirror. “Give me something to try and hold inside me all day today.”
“Oh fuck yeah,” I growled, picturing him holding his big, juicy ass clenched tight to keep my Dad cum inside of him as long as he could. And then his ring began to squeeze rhythmically around me, in time with the throb of his big beefy young cock in my hand, and I knew we were there.
“Ahhh fuck yeah Dad!” he hollered, and his cock throbbed and pulsed and started to shoot, hot white pearly jets splattering onto the mirror, the faucet, the sink beneath him. With a growl, I slammed my hip up hard into him, planting my cock deep inside the clenching hot tightness of his guts, and I joined him, grunting and moaning and shivering as I spurted my own thick seed up into his welcoming depths.
We didn’t have much time for the niceties, so I just grabbed the wet washcloth from the shower, swiped it over his heaving, sweating young muscles, then my own, giving my cock a quick wipe to get the excess slickness off. At least we could kiss, hard and hungry and growling, as we did.
In my bedroom, I watched him dress quickly, yanking his underwear up his chunky thighs, wishing I could pull them back down and go another round with him - but no. I’d told him his studies were important. Besides, we’d have a good few hours now to recharge and rebuild. This evening was gonna be another great one, I just knew. In the meantime, though, I pulled on my own clothes, found my keys, and just enjoyed the sight of him while I still could. If we hustled, he could still make his 10 o’clock class in time. And if he was a few minutes late, well… hell, it was worth it, wasn’t it?
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