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It was the summer after Jeremy’s senior year. He would be off to college soon, moving to California to study engineering. I was so proud of him.

His last summer at home didn’t seem so different from the rest, really. He worked as a lifeguard at the Y, getting paid minimum wage. My wife, Helena, was away on another business trip to Beijing, and I was working too. I do consulting work, high enough up that I get to work from the comfort of my own home office.

Jeremy had always been a Daddy’s girl. Or, he was, before he came out, but Daddy’s boy just doesn’t have the same connotations. Helena was always tough on him, pushing him to train hard at the activities she signed him up for: tap dance, gymnastics, piano, volleyball. Out of them all, volleyball was the only one that stuck. He played for the girl’s team at his high school until he came out his junior year, when he switched to the boy’s. He was a good teammate, a good friend, and a great libero.

My wife took a while to come around when Jeremy came out, but I’d like to think I took it in stride. I was always happy just to make him laugh or see him smile. It didn’t matter what gender he was, he would always be my baby. When he turned eighteen, I cried. My wife rolled her eyes at me. I always was the emotional one.

Now eighteen and a half, 5’8″, a year on testosterone, heading towards top surgery, and off to college, my baby boy was all grown up. That would be proven to me this summer.

That summer, I decided to Marie Kondo my office, and rearranged it. Instead of the window facing the pool being behind me when I sat at my desk, it was in front of me, a quick glance up from my work monitors. An innocuous decision inspired by a Netflix star changed everything. I blame her.

When Jeremy would get back from his afternoon shifts at the Y, he would lounge in our pool, basking in the chance to actually swim instead of blowing his whistle at the tweens who ran by the side of the pool. At work, he wore his red trunks with a tee and hunched his shoulders to hide his B cup chest. Once he got home, he would strip his shirt off, leaving him in bright red trunks and a white sports bra that compressed his chest, but not as much as a binder would. (I had barred him from wearing a binder to work once he admitted that he would get dizzy sitting by the heavily-chlorinated pool in it. Tears sprung to my eyes as I gave him hell- “what if you passed out while sitting in that lifeguard chair? You could crack your skull and die!” He rolled his eyes at me, but agreed to wear sports bras. A good mix of his mother and I.)

It was half past five in the afternoon, and I was just slowing down for the day. Month-end deadlines pushed me to work harder than I usually did, so I had barely looked up from my screen all day long. I stretched, letting my thin frame relax against my ergonomic office chair as I looked out the window. And then I froze.

Jeremy was laying by the pool, clearly having just come out from the water. His slicked-back hair and wet footprints leading to the lounge chair were obvious clues, but the real reason I knew was because his sports bra was see-through.

I saw his pink nipples, pebbled from the cool water; his areola a hint of colored shadow under the fabric. A drop of water rolled, slowly, tantalizingly, between his young breasts, and disappeared. Further down, his tummy was flat from volleyball and conditioning, with a happy trail that gave me a run for my money. Water clung to the dark curls there, widening and leading to…

Oh, God. What was I doing? What was I thinking? Why was I looking there? Why was I thinking like this? That’s my son. I shouldn’t be looking at him while he’s so bare. Then again, I thought to myself, it’s not any more revealing than a bikini would be. Plus, I rationalized, there’s nothing inherently sexual about what I saw. The aching bulge in my trousers begged to differ.

I shook my head. It’s just Helena being gone, I told myself. I squeezed my cock through my trousers while I remembered the night she tied me up and dominated me. Soon, I found myself going soft. I shook my head in frustration, powered down my computer, and began getting ready for dinner.

The next day, I found myself looking out the window after Jeremy got home from the Y. In the pool, he floated to the top of the water, his strong arms and legs becoming weightless. When he got out of the pool, he laid on his front on the lounge chair. Water dripped down his perfectly-arched back to just above his trunks, where a small covering of fuzz began. His bulky trunks couldn’t entirely hide the curve of his backside, still plump despite the muscle underneath. His toned, hairy calves looked golden as they caught the evening sun.

Without even realizing, I shakily unzipped my fly and fished out my cock. My slit was already drooling precum past my foreskin. I wrapped my palm around my shaft and began to slowly pump my hand, dragging my foreskin down and hissing when I gathered wetness escort bahçelievler from my sensitive head. I wouldn’t last long. I started pumping faster, looking at my son’s round ass, when he turned over, unknowingly giving me more of a show when his pert breasts came into view. I bit my lip, imagining sucking on his sensitive nipples, him moaning “Daddy…”

“Shit,” I mumbled, coming down from one of the quickest orgasms I’d had since Helena went through her tease and denial phase. I wiped up the cum from my keyboard, stealing a glance at my innocent son, still lounging by the pool, who was ignorant to his father’s desire.

It went on like this for a week. During the work day, hating myself every time a key stuck, reminding me of what I had done; as soon as five thirty hit, my cock in my hand, cumming to the thought of my sweet baby boy.

One day, Jeremy inadvertently pushed me over the edge. I had drawn the blinds, telling myself I had to stop before I needed professional help. My cock, now used to evening playtime, had a semi in my work trousers. I headed downstairs to start cooking when I glanced outside and stopped dead in my tracks.

Jeremy had taken off his sports bra. His beautiful breasts were like tear droplets on his body, the perfect size. His nipples were so, so pink, and begging to be kissed and suckled. They were lovely and big, just like his mother’s. Just as I drank all this in, he turned his head towards me.

“Young man, put something on before the neighbors see!” I sputtered out, flushing bright red as blood rushed to my cock.

“Our fence is high enough and you know it. It’s just you, and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Jeremy retorted, blushing a bit himself as he sat up. His breasts wobbled hypnotically.

“When you were a baby,” I squeaked. “It’s different now, you’re… developed.”

He laughed. “Top surgery is at the end of August. Someone’s gotta appreciate them before they’re gone,” he teased.

“I…” I shook my head and rubbed my temples. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m making dinner. Be dressed for the table, please.” I walked off, hoping my trousers were tight enough that I wasn’t tenting them. I had to keep adjusting my throbbing cock as I was cooking, getting distracted by what he had said. What he said implied that no one had seen his chest before. If no one had seen it, it was likely he was a virgin… My cock pulsed and leaked at the thought of my precious son being a virgin. Innocent, inexperienced… he could be the best fuck of my life. Wait, what?

I jumped as I felt a body pressing on me from behind. “Silly Daddy,” Jeremy said, “don’t burn dinner.” He turned off the stovetop and gave me a quick peck on the arm. At 6’4″, he couldn’t ever reach my face. I felt my cock surge at the closeness, then begin to fade as I focused as hard as I could on serving and eating a normal dinner with my normal son that I had normal fatherly feelings about.

After I finished clearing up from dinner, I bid Jeremy a good night as he surfed Netflix. It was early, but I couldn’t get my cock to go soft enough to be in close proximity to my son, much less in sweatpants.

When I got to my room, I stripped down, out of my boxers. My hard cock pointed to the ceiling when I laid back in bed, the tip leaking precum. I pulled back my foreskin and groaned inwardly at the sensation, having been aching for hours. I closed my eyes as I wrapped my palm around my rock-hard cock, picturing Jeremy’s chest, water droplets beading on his soft, tan skin. His nipples were hard and wrinkled, erect from the water’s chill. In my fantasy, he looked up at me, batting his eyelashes.

“Do you like what you see, Daddy? It’s all for you,” dream-Jeremy said, jiggling his tits in his hands.

I groaned. “Oh, fuck, Daddy loves your tits, baby. Daddy loves his baby boy’s beautiful tits.” I tugged at my balls. I was getting close.

Dream-Jeremy licked his lips. “I want to taste you, Daddy.” The idea of his warm, wet mouth engulfing the sticky head of my cock was getting to be too much.

I felt my balls start to tighten and my eyes were squeezed shut. I twisted my hand around the head of my cock on the upstroke, making me groan. I panted, jerking faster, more desperately, “Oh fuck, Jeremy, Daddy’s gonna cum, Daddy’s gonna cum in his little boy’s mouth, oh God, fuck-“

“Hey Daddy? What’s the password for Hulu? We got logged out and-“

My eyes flew open. Jeremy stood in the doorway, holding the TV remote and staring openly at my cock. I released my cock and reached for something to cover myself just as my now-ruined orgasm reached its peak. My horror at being caught couldn’t stop my cock from dribbling out a full load of cum. We both watched as my cock twitched and pulsed, sticky white cum pooling on my stomach.

I cleared my throat. “Should be JerBear2001, capital J, capital B,” I answered as nonchalantly as I could when caught masturbating by the escort balgat subject of my fantasies, which happened to be my teenage son.

He nodded, flushed. “Um. Thanks.” He took care to close the door behind him.

I flopped onto my back and groaned. A number of very bad things had happened. Number one, my son had caught me masturbating. Number two, my son had caught me masturbating to him. Number three, my son had caught me masturbating to him and I still came. Speaking of, I was still covered in it, and I was still hard. Sighing, I got out of bed, and went to shower.

Despite my shame, my guilt, my embarrassment, my horror, I was still half hard. I wrapped my hand around my cock and winced at the sensitivity. I willed myself to not think of anything as I rubbed out an unremarkable, yet functional orgasm. It did the job. When I finally got back to bed, I fell right into a deep sleep.

The next day, I woke up early and made omelets for Jeremy and I, willing myself back into dad mode. He came to the kitchen right in time for them to be served. “Good morning, Daddy,” he yawned, stretching his arms over his head.

I looked right at that moment and instantly regretted it. He wore a loose tank top and a tight pair of boxer briefs. As he stretched, his lightly furred tummy was put on display, looking perfect to kiss along as it led south. His underwear was tight enough that I could see the outline of his clitoris- well, now cock, enlarged from the testosterone. His toned thighs were covered in a dusting of hairs, flexing as he stretched.

“Hey, sleepy,” I replied, my mouth drier than usual. Thankfully, I was able to continue cooking as an excuse to hide my growing erection from him. Dad mode had clearly not been reached. “No work today?” I squeaked out.

He shook his head. “It’s my day off,” he replied proudly. I gulped. I could barely handle a few hours around my baby boy, much less a whole day.

After we ate hearty portions, Jeremy practically ran to put his dishes in the sink. “Thanks, Daddy!” he called over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time.

“The dishwasher is dirty, young man!” I called after him. After a moment’s silence, I sighed, resigning myself to the dishes. I heard the shower start just as I dried the last pan. As I walked upstairs, I noticed steam flowing out from a crack in the bathroom door. Jeremy must have left the bathroom door open when he started his shower. I reached for the handle, but I made the mistake of looking up.

In the mirror, I saw Jeremy. Through the clear shower door and the rolling steam, I saw him rubbing soap in his hands and across his gorgeous form. His back was to me, and I saw his shapely legs and plump ass, water and bubbles streaming across his skin. The curve of his back where it met his round cheeks, the way his arms reached up and his hands moved across his body… I’m no voyeur, but in that moment, Jeremy might have changed my mind.

I intended to close the door. I really did. My hand was on the door handle, and I was willing myself to pull it shut. But then I heard a moan.

I watched him turn around and move his hands to cup his soapy breasts, full and round with pebbled nipples. He pinched and rolled his nipples between his fingers, letting out another soft moan. He squeezed his breasts and I saw how soft they were under his comparatively small hands. He snaked one hand down his body, over his sleek tummy and through his dark, matted happy trail. It lead to a beautiful untrimmed bush. Peeking out from under his curls was the goal of his fingers- his cock. I only got a quick look at it, thick and hooded, before his fingers seized their prize. He sensually squeezed and massaged his T dick, moaning louder.

With this sight, my rock-hard cock demanded more than a passive view. I pulled out my dripping cock, still mesmerized by the sight of my son touching himself. I started slowly pumping my shaft, knowing I wouldn’t take long with such a sexy sight. Jeremy’s breathing was getting more ragged, his breasts heaving and jiggling as he stroked his cock harder and faster. I tried to control my breathing as I heard my baby boy moaning. The same baby boy who I taught to ride a bike, who I let beat me at Mario Kart, who I saw graduate from high school only a short month before. I couldn’t control myself, biting my lip to keep from grunting as I fucked my hand to the sight of my sexy son.

“Oh… Daddy! Daddy, I’m gonna cum!”

My jaw dropped as Jeremy moaned those words. He spasmed and bucked his hips, squirting cum from his hot folds. He slumped back against the tile, his eyes closed, his breasts heaving, as he came down from what looked like a wonderful cum. He slowly opened his eyes.

I slammed the door closed in a panic. “Shit!” I hissed, cumming against the door with a soft moan. I groaned. I had been caught, again. I grabbed a paper towel and cleaned up my cum, a sinking feeling in my gut. There was no way Jeremy hadn’t escort batıkent heard the door slam, if he hadn’t seen his daddy with his cock in his hand.

I avoided Jeremy for the rest of the day. I closed myself in my office with the blinds drawn. My guilt finally won out over my lust, and I got in a solid day of work without the images of my son’s body in my head. Around six o’clock, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called, still focused on my spreadsheets.

Jeremy opened the door. “Hey, Daddy,” he said. “Can I borrow the car? My friends are going to the mall.”

“Of course, pumpkin,” I replied. I looked up, my mental faculties stalling as I saw what he was wearing. He wore a tight tee shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and a pair of shorts that could barely count as a pair of denim bikini bottoms. “Um. Be back by ten-thirty, okay?”

He grinned at me. “Thank you Daddy. See you by ten-thirty,” he said, sauntering out the door. As he walked out, his perfectly plump asschecks were jiggling on display in those skin-tight daisy dukes. It must’ve been my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear he stalled at the door, giving me a prime view of his behind.

I stayed frozen until I heard the car leave the driveway. My cock was throbbing and pressing against the tight fabric of my pants. I unzipped my fly and groaned as I palmed my cock through my boxers, already dripping precum. As I looked at the growing stain in my shorts, I had an idea. My crotch bulging obscenely, I walked down the hall to Jeremy’s room. My heart was pounding in my ears. Was I really about to do this?

I answered my own question by opening the door. Inside was a typical teenage boy’s room. His bed was unmade, his desk was cluttered, and his clothes were scattered across the carpet. I scanned the room, pawing at my bulge through my boxers. I found my prize next to the bed. I gingerly picked up yesterday’s pair of boxers. I inspected them, noticing a wet spot on the crotch. I slowly balled them up and brought them to my face, inhaling.

The smell hit me like a ton of lustful bricks. That deep scent of a natural cock, mixed with something soft, and tangy, like a clementine. I let out a guttural moan. My boxers like a cage around my painfully hard cock and full, heavy balls, so I pulled them down around my knees. I slowly wrapped my palm around my cock and started pumping my fist while I sniffed my son’s underwear.

My fantasy went back to the images of my son in the shower, but this time, inviting me to join him. “Please lick me, Daddy,” dream-Jeremy’s breathy voice said. I knelt in the steam and started gently sucking my son’s engorged T cock. He moaned, writhing against the cool tiles. “Daddy… does it taste good?” dream-Jeremy asked.

“Ungh, Jeremy… baby boy, your little boy cock and hole taste so good…” As I fucked my palm, I licked and lapped at the small patch of my son’s wetness. I was desperate, my cock right on the edge. At the last moment, I wrapped my son’s boxers around my cock, firing my sticky load into the fabric.

I came down from my orgasm with my heart still pounding. Should I leave evidence of my transgression, or take them with me, risking him asking after them? Slowly, I brought the underwear to my mouth, sucking it clean. The taste of our combined juices made me moan. When I was done, I assessed the damage. Wetter than before, but hopefully clean. I dropped the pair next to the bed, put away my cock, and left his room, closing the door behind me.

The rest of my evening was uneventful. I made myself a frozen dinner and put on Law and Order reruns. I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up Law and Order: Special Victims Unit was on, and Jeremy had his head on my lap. As I stirred, he looked up at me. “Good morning,” he teased.

I yawned and stretched. “Hey, baby boy,” I replied. “How was the mall?”

He shrugged. “Fine. I kind of wish I stayed in with my Daddy, though.”

I blushed and stammered, “Nothing fun going on here.” As the words came out of my mouth, I glanced further down Jeremy’s body to see he was wearing a pair of white boxers, along with a tight tank top. Designed for cisgender men with nothing to speak of, his big ass was stretching the fabric in the back of his boxers, making the white cotton tantalizingly almost-translucent. From my vantage point, I saw the beautiful cleft of his ass, along with a view straight down his tank top between his firm breasts.

My cock started to harden… again. Problem was, Jeremy’s head was right on top of my fast-hardening rod. In just a few moments, my tent would be poking into his cheek, if he wasn’t running screaming out of the room by then. So I did what any dad would do- insisted it was bedtime.

“Okay, baby boy, I’ve had enough of watching gory television,” I said, standing up and pushing Jeremy off my lap just as my cock stood at half mast. Jeremy was suddenly at eye level with my stiff, throbbing cock. He looked straight at my boner. His face being that close to my cock made my cock jump and start leaking. Jeremy giggled.

“You’ve got something else to watch, Daddy?” he teased.

I hurriedly tucked my boner into my waistband, blushing profusely. “N- no! It’s very natural, especially after sleeping,” I stammered.

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