The Weekend at Dad’s
Leo had always felt like an outlier, a slight, blonde youth with a soft gaze and a physique that drew unwanted attention in high school. His relationship with his father, Marcus, had always been tender, though they had lived apart since the divorce. When Leo’s mother traveled for work, she arranged for him to spend a few days at Marcus’s home on the outskirts of the city, hoping the two would reconnect.
The house smelled of old leather and masculine musk, a scent that Leo found strangely intoxicating. By Friday evening, the atmosphere shifted. Marcus had invited three of his closest friends—Jorge, Jose, and Juan—over for a football game and several rounds of beer. Leo, feeling sleepy and relaxed, had drifted off in the shared bedroom wearing only a pair of tight, white briefs that left very little to the imagination.
When Leo woke and descended the stairs, he noticed a heavy silence fall over the room. Marcus and his friends weren’t watching the game; they were staring at him, their eyes tracing the curves of his body. The air grew thick with a sudden, electric tension. After a brief, awkward encounter with a visiting woman who left in a huff, the men remained, their inhibitions lowered by alcohol and a shared, simmering desire.
Leo, playing into his role as the spoiled son, sat on Marcus’s lap, pretending to pout. He felt something hard pressing against him, a revelation that sent a jolt of arousal through his spine. The boundary between father and son blurred into something primal. One by one, the men began to touch him, their rough hands contrasting with his smooth skin. Jose was the first to expose himself, offering a thick, veiny length that Leo accepted with an eager, hungry curiosity.
The living room became a sanctuary of hedonism. Marcus, his gaze clouded by drink and lust, joined in, his own impressive size adding to the onslaught of pleasure. They stripped Leo bare, surrounding him with their towering, muscular frames. He felt small, fragile, and utterly desired as he moved between them, his mouth occupied by one while another explored his heat.
The transition to full intimacy was intense. Marcus took the lead, claiming Leo with a powerful thrust that brought tears of shock and pleasure to the boy’s eyes. The pain was sharp at first, but it quickly melted into an overwhelming sensation of being filled and possessed. Jorge and Juan followed, each taking their turn to drive into him with a raw, animalistic fervor. Leo stopped fighting the tide and surrendered, his cries turning from protests into pleas for more.
The night culminated in a chaotic explosion of release. The men groaned in unison, coating Leo’s face and mouth in warm, thick seed, marking him as their collective prize. Exhausted and drenched in scent and fluid, Leo eventually retreated to the shower, the memory of their weight still pressing into his skin.
The next morning, Marcus approached him with a look of profound guilt, whispering an apology for the madness of the night. Leo looked up at him, a mischievous glint in his honey-colored eyes. He leaned in, his hand sliding toward his father’s lap, and whispered, “I forgive you, but only if you show me again how good it feels to be yours.”