Excerpt from “Becoming the Young Boy Again: A Hypno Roleplay Dad-Son Master-Student Seduction Novel”

Here’s an excerpt from Becoming the Young Boy Again.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

Ethan’s first day of high school was almost normal.

His dad wakes him up at seven. It’s a ritual between them. The room is dark and Ethan is curled up under the covers, then hall light slivers into his room and soon the man’s muscular form looms over him.

“It’s that time,” his dad says. Then he reaches out and strokes Ethan’s cheek. His hand is like a rock that flexes. It’s rough with calluses from the 500lbs he deadlifts at the gym. When his fingers dust Ethan’s cheek, his heart flutters and his morning wood gets stiffer.

Then his dad’s gone and Ethan moans into his pillow. His dad showers first. He leaves his son’s room door wide open and Ethan can hear the sprinkle of the shower as the man washes himself. Ethan lies half-awake, his cock still stiff, driven point-first into his body pillow. Usually he humps the bed a bit, as he still thinks about that coarse hand on his cheek. It feels so good and tingly, but he also has to pee, so usually that’s the point where he gets up.

His dad is still showering when Ethan comes into the bathroom. They have a “who cares” policy in his house when it comes to nudity.

The toilet is next to the glass-door shower. Ethan pulls his boxers down and tries to bend his stiff erection to piss.

“Need help with that?” his dad asks.

Yeah, Ethan wants to tell him, but of course he knows his dad’s joking. This is the humor that runs between them. If his dad ever thought that Ethan wished the man would take his cock in hand, or that he’d come and snuggle under the sheets with him and press that whole muscular body hard against him, pin him down under all that weight, cock stiff and flush against his smooth butt cheeks…

Fuck. Ethan has to piss, but instead he’s got the tingly sensation in his cock and as he holds it he wants to keep squeezing.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Becoming the Young Boy Again.

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Excerpt from “Gangbanged by My Dad and His Friends”

Here’s an excerpt from Gangbanged by My Dad and His Friends.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

I turn my head slightly, looking to Chad and Derek. They’re both engrossed in the game. I turn back toward dad, my lips just a mere inch from his.

“Dad…” I say. I try to keep my voice low and steady, but it comes out with a crack. I sound like a pubescent teenager.

He glances past me, toward his friends, then his eyes meet mine again. “They know,” he says.

Then it hits me. It all hits me. Dad does remember that night. I thought I was the only one living with this guilt, but he is too. But … he doesn’t seem like he feels guilty. He seems… Dad takes my hand and puts it on his hard, massive bulge.

“Dad…” I say again, my voice cracking again.

“Trevor…” he says. I moan at the sound of my name on his lips.

Absently, I realize the game is over. I hear the theme music emanating from the TV, but it sounds like it’s a million miles away. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me close to him for a kiss, his lips crushing against mine, and it’s like all I can focus on, like my whole world exists in this kiss and nowhere else. Everything drops away — the TV, Derek, Chad — they’re all gone and it’s just dad and I and our kiss. I can taste the beer on his lips and his tongue, and the warmth of his body soaks through his clothes and through mine and warms me to my core. His hand falls to rest on my hard bulge and he starts rubbing it.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Gangbanged by My Dad and His Friends.

Excerpt from “Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle”

Here’s an excerpt from Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

I pull into my driveway with a case of beer sitting in the passenger seat. I turned twenty-one yesterday and, to celebrate, my dad sent me out to buy beer. But to make it extra special, he invited me to hang out in his Man Cave with him and my uncle.

My heart thuds with anticipation as I turn off the car, grab the beer, and head to the house. Though dad had this Man Cave my whole life, I was never allowed to hang out in it. “This is a twenty-one and over room,” dad would always say.

I’ve seen glimpses of it now and then — wood panelling, a big TV and sound system, a leather couch, sports memorabilia, a pool table — but when dad wasn’t in there, he locked the door. I couldn’t even sate my curiosity by sneaking in when he was out of the house.

He’d always hang out in his Man Cave for hours on end with his brother, my Uncle Robert, and no one would be allowed to join them. Mom would always chuckle and say something like, “Boys will be boys,” and never question what happened in the Man Cave.

But I was always intensely curious. I was dying to know what went on in there, what they talked about, what they did — and now is my chance to finally find out. As I walk up the steps, I notice Uncle Robert’s car parked on the street. He must already be here, hanging out with dad in the mysterious Man Cave.

I enter the house and kick off my shoes. My mom gives me a smile as she heads out the door and says, “Have a good time with the big boys.”

As I descend the stairs with the case of beer in my hand, my heart is thudding against my ribs. I’m suddenly very nervous about what I’ll find on the other side of the door. As I reach the bottom of the stairs and approach the door, I can see a light coming from the crack beneath the door and I can hear some muffled noises, but I can’t make anything out.

I knock.

“That you, Andrew?” dad calls from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, dad. I brought the beer.”

“Come on in. Door’s open.”

I turn the knob, open the door, and walk in. I see the back of dad’s head as he’s sitting on the couch in front of me. The room is all in dark tones and there’s some soft music playing through the stereo system. Sports posters line the walls and shelves hold things like autographed sports balls and framed photos of dad and Uncle Robert on fishing trips.

“Where’s Uncle Robert?” I ask as I close the door behind me.

“He’s right here, son,” dad says, not turning to look back at me.

I walk around the couch and find Uncle Robert on his knees, sucking off dad. My jaw drops and the beer almost slips from my hand, but I tighten my grip before dropping the case. Uncle Robert glances at me, never taking dad’s thick cock from his mouth, and winks.

“What the fuck is going on?” I manage to say when I pull my wits about me to speak again.

“Have a seat, son,” dad says, and pats the couch next to him.

Not even knowing what I should do or how I should react, I slowly sit down next to him, watching his brother continue to suck him off. I watch in awe as this continues in front of me.

“Pass me a beer,” dad says, casually, as if he was just watching a football game.

Still not taking my eyes off dad’s cock and my uncle going down on it, I rip open the top of the box and pull out a can for dad. I pass it to him, he pops the top, and he takes a deep swallow.

“Does this…” I say, but then pause as I try to figure out what I want to ask. “Is this what you guys always do down here?”

“Not usually,” dad says. I don’t know if I should feel relieved or disappointed. I’ve been thinking more and more about guys and less about girls, and I’m innately drawn to the kinky. It was sort of hot thinking of this brotherly incestuous action going on in the house all the time. “Usually I’m balls-deep in your uncle’s ass.”

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Tag-Teamed By My Dad And My Uncle.

Excerpt from “Watching Gay Porn With My Dad”

Here’s an excerpt from Watching Gay Porn With My Dad.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

I turn down the music on my laptop and listen to the noises in the house. It’s just dad and me at home, and I’m sure I heard him swearing.

Instead, what I hear is something like an alert siren, but it sounds tinny, like it’s coming from computer speakers. I chuckle to myself and get to my feet, leaving my anthropology homework behind. Dad probably got some noisy pop-up ad that he’s having trouble closing. He’s not good with technology.

I wander through the house until I find him. He’s in his room, sitting on the bed, with his laptop across his knees. He looks up at me, startled, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Need help, dad?” I ask, and start crossing the room to him.

“No,” he says, shaking his head franticly. “I’ll figure it out!”

I almost stumble when I see why he doesn’t want my help. His shorts and briefs are partway down his thighs and his hard, thick cock is laying across his lap.

“Uh…” I say, not able to put together words. I take in the sight of it — thick, veiny, dark, hard. It’s far bigger than mine. When I finally pull my gaze away from dad’s cock, I see his cheeks burning bright with shame. I probably look as red as him.

The only sound in the room, which is only barely overcoming the incredibly loud thudding of my heart, is the irritating shrill coming from the pop-up ad. Dad and I stare at each other for far too long.

Finally, he turns the laptop toward me, not bothering to pull his shorts up. “Can you get rid of this fucking thing?”

I nod, then get on my knees next to the bed. Though I try to focus solely on the laptop, I can’t help but glance at dad’s dick, only inches from my face. I try closing the pop-up, which I’m sure dad had attempted, and I was caught in an endless cycle of warnings, forcing the ad to stay open. It took a few moments of fiddling, but I managed to finally close the ad.

With the ad gone, I could see what dad had been looking at.

I never should’ve come in here.

Gay porn filled the screen.

An older man is fucking a younger man, his thick cock completely buried in the younger man’s smooth ass. I glance again at dad’s cock and feel my cheeks burning hot with a blush. Then I look over to the other side of the bed, mom’s side.

“You okay, son?” dad asks. His voice has a little quiver to it, like he’s as nervous as I am right now.

I bite my lip, trying to figure out what to say. Should I tell him what I really want to tell him? Fuck it. I’ll just do it.

“Let me show you a better site for gay porn,” I finally say.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Watching Gay Porn With My Dad.

Excerpt from “Drinking My Dad’s Piss”

Here’s an excerpt from Drinking My Dad’s Piss.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

Dad stumbles in. I lose focus on the game, then pause it.

He’s drunk. I can tell by the way he’s leaning on the wall next to the door.

“It’s 11:36 in the morning,” he says. “You’re still playing games?”

I put the controller down, but stay belly-down on the blanket to hide my erection. “I did all my chores.”

“Your chores? Fuck.” He takes a step forward, staggers, then plants himself in a firm fighter stance. “You ran that vacuum over the carpet so fast it just moved the fucking cat hair around.”

“There’s so much cat hair, Dad. I can’t help it that he sheds so much.”

Dad takes a step toward my bed. “If you did more than play those fucking games all day you’d take a look and see there’s more you can do to help here. Or maybe it’s time for a job.”

“Dad, I want to take the summer off. We agreed I could take a break before I decide what I’m doing. It’s a big decision.”

“It’s September! All you’re doing every time I come in here is sitting on that blanket, playing those fucking games. You’re not a kid anymore. Time to grow up.”

He takes another step toward me. Now he’s standing right at the edge of the bed. He’s wearing his ratty jeans and tight gray t-shirt. He always looks rough and dirty, and today there’s dirt and sweat in his forearm hairs from working in the garden.

Dad’s never hit me before, but when he gets upset like this I’ve always been uncomfortable. Not that he’d ever hit me. I just don’t like it when I know he’s not happy with me.

“I’m not ready to get a job yet,” I tell him. “I’m reflecting on my life. You know, like they say you should.” The urge to piss comes again, and I hump down by instinct.

Dad notices. I can tell by the way he frowns. “You’re too attached to that blanket,” he says. “Sitting here, lying in your bed, doing nothing, it’s like you’re still ten and life is all fun and games. Maybe if you get rid of that thing…”

The thought of getting rid of my blanket causes me panic. “I’ll do more chores. Even look for a job, if I have to.”

“No.” Dad comes forward some more, leaning his thighs against the edge of the bed now. “That blanket was cute when you were a kid. But now keeping it around is a reminder that you’ve failed to grow up.”

I’m thinking of something to say, but that all goes to shit when Dad’s hands go to the button on his jeans and then he zips down his fly.

“Dad,” I protest. Quick as that, he flips his underwear down and pops his cock out. It’s semi-stiff, a good five inch shaft of thick meat.

I’m still in shock trying to figure out what the fuck he’s doing when the yellow stream starts flowing from his dick. Yellow. He’s pissing! He’s got his cock in one hand and he’s aiming it right at my blanket.

“What the fuck!” I scramble over a bit, but not completely off my blanket. Piss splatters against it in front of me, forming a puddle at the edge.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Drinking My Dad’s Piss.

Excerpt from “Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry”

Here’s an excerpt from Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

Things got tough around the house after Donna, my wife, passed away. She did a lot of things for us and I didn’t realize how much I relied on her, even though our marriage had tapered out in the last few years and we’d lived more or less as roommates. One moment it was life as usual, the next, I was a widowed father of two, self-made millionaire from an online multimedia company, and the big house we’d lived in, which was big enough for a family of ten, suddenly felt way too big.

In those last years before she died, I’d spent more time with my sons and found I got closer with them, especially my youngest, Dylan. Movie nights with Donna soon became movie nights with the boys. We’d even stay up late sometimes and watch several movies. Scottie, the older by two years, would often go to bed but Dylan and I would stay up and sometimes he’d curl up in my arms and nestle against my lap.

At first, it was just comfortable to be close with him, like when he was a little boy and he wanted to snuggle up with his daddy, but during those movie nights, I found, after he’d fall asleep and curl up, his head near to my crotch, that when I shifted to get closer to him I’d turn so my crotch was closer to his chest, the pressure sending a rush of excitement that had me hard as a rock. I’d put my hand on his back and massage his shoulders, feel his mouth against my chest, and think of how good his soft, warm lips felt through the fabric of my button-up shirt.

Then Donna died unexpectedly of an aneurism in her sleep. I was so shocked by it, I didn’t cry until after five days, and even then the tears were ones of guilt. I blamed myself for letting our love die, and felt so lonely; in some ways, even blamed myself for her death, found myself awake many nights wondering if I’d taken a bit more time to try rekindling what we had if she might have lived.

Donna was gone, and the boys were all I had left. After the guilt passed, there was loneliness, but there was Dylan and Scottie, always with me, and they helped me heal. They spent a lot of time comforting me, helping me around the house, making sure I was all right.

We still had our movie nights, but even when we didn’t, Dylan would often come to my bed after Scottie went to sleep and cuddle up with me. It was innocent on his part, I was sure of it, but I was lonelier than ever and those nights I couldn’t get over how good it felt to have him with me. I’d put my arms around him and snuggle him close, pressing my hard erection shamelessly against his bottom.

If he noticed, he never told me, so this became a thing that we did every night when he’d curl up in my bed. I even found that when he got into my bed he’d turn, facing away, and would push his bubble butt against my waist as I pulled the cover up over us and nestled him in my arm, so I didn’t question it. I’ve always been a go with the flow kind of guy.

One night, after I was spooning him and my cock was throbbing with the pressure and warmth of his butt crack against it, I couldn’t hold back anymore, so I started to move back and forth a little, after I could hear Dylan sleeping. It didn’t take long before I felt my cock pulse and explode with an orgasm unlike any I’d had in years. Cum pumped out so hard I could feel it flooding my underwear, shooting hard against the fabric, but I just kept humping and didn’t want the pleasure to stop. Finally, when I was empty and spent, I wrapped my arm tighter around my son and pulled him close, sinking deep into sleep. In the morning, when he got up, I noticed the yellowed stain of my dried cum all over his pajama bottoms, and couldn’t help grinning in satisfaction at how I’d not only shot my wad so hard it went right through my underwear, but how I’d also marked my son in a way so intimate and secret. When he left for school I found I was hard already thinking about what it would be like to do it again when the day was over, and so I couldn’t wait for the day to end.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry.

Excerpt from “Seducing My Daddies”

Here’s an excerpt from Seducing My Daddies, the fourth in my series of dad/son incest stories.

If you like what you see, click here to find out where you can get your copy.

God damn it, I was horny, but this just wasn’t working. I could tell that no matter how hot and horny I got, I just wasn’t going to be able to come tonight. No, only one thing would satisfy me. Only one thing would get me off so I could sleep.

And that one thing was taboo … off limits … forbidden.

Fuck it.

I stood up and left my boxers in a pile on the floor and went to stand in dad and Devin’s doorway again. I nudged the door open further so I could get an even better view. The light from the bathroom reflected down the hall and added a faint glow to the scene in front of me.

Dad and Devin were gods among men — everything I needed in a man. These were exactly the type of men that I wanted to take my virginity, to introduce me to the hedonistic world of gay sex. And, maybe, just maybe, it was something that could evolve beyond just primal sex. Fantasies filled my head of us becoming a threesome, of us sleeping in the same bed every night, of me being pumped full of their come every morning and night.

I found myself suddenly moving on instinct and desire — my mind not fully in control of my body. I nudged the door open further and walked into the room, naked and still masturbating, and stood in front of Devin. I stared down at both him and dad; their bodies were even more incredible now that I was this close to them. I could almost feel the heat emanating off of them and I could smell the musk of men, that smell sending a charge straight to my dick and making me throw my head back and moan.

“Ryan?” The sound of my dad’s voice saying my name sent a shock of cold fear through me. I’d been caught. I’d been fucking caught. “Ryan, what are you doing?”

But then I looked at him and Devin — who had also woken up and was looking me — and I didn’t see disgust in their eyes. No, I saw acceptance, like they were totally okay with me standing over them and masturbating.

Acting on instinct again, and not saying a word, I got into bed with them, lying between Devin and dad, facing dad. Behind me, Devin rolled over and I felt his bulge brush against my ass crack. Dad looked at me, the weak light glinting off his eyes, and as he parted his lips to say something else, I put a hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. It was long and passionate — at least on my end. Dad’s lips didn’t move. He didn’t reject my kiss, didn’t push me away, but he didn’t kiss me back, either.

I kept kissing him, kept getting something I’d been aching to do. And then, so subtly that I almost missed it, dad let out a low groan that rumbled in his chest. That groan, that rumble, that sound of base desire, was like flipping a switch. Dad put a hand on my slim waist and leaned into me, kissing me hard, his tongue flicking into my mouth. Devin leaned into me, too, pressing his bulge against my ass and nibbling at the back of my neck, his facial hair adding hot friction to his touch.

To keep reading, click here to find out where you can get your copy of Seducing My Daddies.