This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. This story involves gay sex and is intended for adults only. If it offends you or is illegal for you to read such a story, please exit this web page now. It includes unsafe sex practices 'coz it's just words on a screen; for those who live in the real world, practice safe sex.
This is part 6, the last part.
Thank you all for your feedbacks. Continue to send your comments, suggestions, critiques, etc. I do not get paid to write these but getting your feedbacks makes it all worth it.
Life without Paul is no longer much different from life with Paul. Not since my friends became my masters. Rumors started going around in school that I was queer - and a slutty one at that. I had to come out in school in order to dismiss the slut part as homophobia. It worked somewhat, but of course, those I sucked and those who fucked me know better. Basically, this was half the basketball team and then some - Jeff and Andrew being two of my "regulars". Tom, on the other hand, left me alone after that weekend. That he avoided me was an understatement. It was like I didn't even exist to him at all.
It was one rainy December night when, after several months of silence, I got a call from Paul. He didn't really give me a chance to talk. He rattled off some address and told me that I should be there in fifteen minutes. I couldn't even say no (not that I wanted to decline).
I drove to the address and was impressed when I saw the place to be a plush apartment building. I rang the number to the apartment and I was buzzed in.
When I got to the apartment, I noticed that the door was ajar. I walked in.
"Paul?" I said, loud enough I hoped.
"Close the door behind you, take your clothes off, and come here." I heard Paul's unmistakable voice call out from a bedroom somewhere.
I closed the door, got naked, and followed the source of the voice. It was only when I got close to what I assumed was the bedroom, did I hear another voice whimpering.
"Please, Paul, stop. Stop it, please." The voice pleaded in almost a whisper.
As I pushed the bedroom door open. I saw Paul slap someone heavily across the face. Paul was butt naked, fucking someone spread-eagled on the bed. When the face recovered from the slap, it looked at me. I couldn't believe my eyes.
It was my dad and he was crying.
I didn't even think. I tackled Paul off the bed. We fell to the floor. I started punching him on the head.
"Don't Matt, don't!" Dad said as he pulled me away from Paul.
Paul's lips were bleeding but I wanted to hurt him more. I made another lunge for Paul but dad pushed me back down to the bed.
"Don't!" Dad said.
Before I could stand up again, my dad did the last thing I would ever imagine him do. He got on his knees and started sucking my dick!
That put me in a loop. I didn't move because I didn't know what to do. I just laid there watching and feeling my dad give head. Paul stood up, rubbing his jaw. I looked at him I thought he was going to punch me back but he didn't. I looked back at my dad. What the hell was going on here? I wanted to ask just that but before the words could come out, Paul shushed me.
"It's o.k. Matt. Just relax and enjoy it." Paul said.
Paul's voice was soft. It wasn't a command. It was almost friendly. Dad looked at me for a second but then as if our eye contact was all the explanation I needed, dad closed his eyes and redoubled his efforts on my flaccid manhood. He circled my dick tip with his tongue and tugged on my balls with his hands. He was good. Damn good, actually. There was a tiny panic in me when my dick started to stiffen. I was throwing a rod in front of my dad.
"Relax." Paul said again, lips still bleeding but he was stroking his own meat now.
I don't know whose advice I took, Paul's or my dad's - not that it mattered, for I think they were saying the same thing. I relaxed but kept my eye on my old man's head as it bobbed up and down. This was so strange and yet downright hot. I didn't want it to end. All of Paul's training to keep me from cumming did nothing to prepare me for this. All I kept thinking was that my dad was giving me a blow job. There was no escaping it. In no time, I shot my load (the first of three for that night). I shot it all into my dad's hungry mouth. And just like his son, he swallowed it all up.
My dad didn't waste anytime though, when I was done with all my hip jerking and twitching, he stood up and rubbed his already erect cock.
"Can I fuck you son?"
It was the first time I saw my dad's cock hard. It looked very much like mine - about six inches and pointing straight forward.
"Yes." was all I said.
My dad fucked me like there was no tomorrow. He didn't cum right away. He had me change positions many times and he fucked me with his fingers as well as his cock. I remember thinking if he had ever fucked Linda with as much vigor as he was fucking me. When he was ready, he had me face sideways at the edge of the bed, with one leg up in the air. He snarled like a brute when he finally breeded me with his seeds.
My second release for the evening came when Paul humped me from the back, his one hand pumping my hose, the other tugging on my hair. It was a marathon fuck night. The three of us would stop only to allow ourselves some recovery time before fucking each other again. In between bouts though, we would talk.
Turns out, Dad and Paul were having sex way back when Dad was dating Linda eight years ago. More surprising was that, back then, dad was topping Paul.
Dad owned him, abused him, made Paul his slave. Just before marrying Linda, my dad dumped Paul. Whatever weird shit this did to Paul, I don't really know but Paul had vowed to get even with my father.
"Where did you think Linda got the idea of installing a pool?" Paul told me in the course of their story. "Lucky for me, turned out your a closeted fag just like your dad. Made the blackmail a hell lot easier."
I also learned that Paul told Dad to keep Linda away from the house that one Saturday so that Paul could 'introduce' the real me to my friends. Dad tried to stop him, going back home that day. Paul confronted him outside the house, telling him that he was too late ^Ö that I've already been 'introduced' to each of my friends.
"You knew?" I asked my dad.
"Anybody, who has a nose could smell cum from the doorway." Dad said to me, "and anyway, for what it's worth, I'm sorry - realy sorry. I shouldn't have left you that day in the first place."
I was touched but it really didn't matter in the end 'coz I didn't regret that the incident happened.
Dawn was already breaking and we knew it was our last bout that night. My dad and I fucked Paul: Dad took his mouth, I took his rear. Paul looked quite natural when he was sucking my dad off. Paul was also digging being fucked, which amazed me. I never thought of him to be a willing bottom. He would push his ass himself back into me, wanting me even deeper than I already was. I came inside him and it felt good ^Ö I had fucked my fucker. When it was over I asked Paul why he let me, us, fuck him. That was the first time I fucked anyone.
"Because I got what I wanted already." Paul said in a casual way, which quite frankly I was still unused too (whenever we have sex, I expected him to be domineering, forceful, and mean).
"And what is that?" I asked.
"Closure."
The next year I graduated from high school and moved to New York to start a new life. Not to find myself, I've already done that, thanks to Paul.
Dad is still enjoying the pool with Linda. His secret still safe. We agreed not to talk about that night ever again. We never did.
And Paul? Whatever happened to Paul, I don't know. That morning-after with my dad was the last time I saw him. He gave up the plush apartment my dad paid for then disappeared from our lives forever.
Oh, o.k. fine, the truth is I hadn't seen him for several years since our three-way but then, one day...
I had just gotten back from work when I heard the shower running. I thought it was some free loader breaking into my apartment. I grabbed a crow bar (which I kept for such emergencies) then entered my tiny bathroom. And there he was, yes, pool boy Paul himself - taking a shower. He looked a bit thinner from when I last saw him but he was still a gorgeous bastard. His cock, streaming with shower water, was still hanging long and juicy.
"Nice super you have in this building, boy" Paul said to me with a wink; his terribly disarming smile still intact.
I couldn't reply but my dick did one perceptible twitch.
The End.