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Like Father, Like Son

By Skip Murray

 

Rick heard the engines roar to life, felt the deep vibrations of the propellers flow through the metal, into the cushion, and concentrate in his groin. Sex and power. As many times as he had accompanied his father on out of town business trips, Rick Harty always felt turned on by the deep hum of the engines. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, trying to will away the hard-on that was trapped down his trouser leg. Please, he thought, don't let anyone see it. He squirmed around in his seat and gazed out the window. The Grand Forks airport was rolling past, its few commercial jet liners looming huge in comparison with their small pontoon twin-engine. Take-off was smooth and trouble-free. His dad was flying now, but sooner or later he'd be relieved by Lew, his partner. No matter — both were excellent pilots; both alert, responsible. Both hand­some as the bejeezuz.

He could just see the tops of their heads over the tall bucket seats. One dark, one light Rick looked down at his own olive complexion, a carbon copy of his dad's, then glanced over at his buddy Biff, who was daydreaming out the window on the other side of the plane. Biff's tow hair and golden, tanned skin could have only come from his dad, Lew. So alike, yet so different, mused Rick. He'd known Biff all his life — Christ, they were born within three days of each other eighteen years ago — and he had never had a closer friend. Now, the graduation present — three weeks in the Canadian wilderness for both sets of fathers and sons. Three weeks of fishing,
camping, roughing it ... away from the pressures of Chicago and their dads' thriving architectural firm. Twenty-one terrific days of just playing. No mothers, no girlfriends ... no ... Janie. Rick
closed his eyes and visualized his Janie.

Five-eight, a thin one-twelve and a shape that had men's heads turning from one end of the Loop to the other. Rick realized his erection had disappeared. Janie. She loved him, but what was wrong between them? Why couldn't he return her love as intensely as she gave it out? His eyes clouded at the thoughts of Janie and their problems together.

Well, no matter: three weeks of just fucking off, seeing who could catch the most fish; eating fresh-shot game and living off the land.

Rick sneaked another look in Biff's direction. The big blond halfback had apparently fallen asleep, his head propped against the window, snoring lightly. Rick secretly admired his buddy's huge body. Lew's Nordic stock certainly showed itself in Biff: those big shoulders, thick trunk, broad hands and strong, meaty legs were a sight to see. Almost against his will, Rick thought of another facet of Biff's anatomy that was bigger than usual. He'd seen that long, wide cock for years. Through four years of football, basketball and track teams, Rick had checked out Biff's dick. He could stare at it for hours, the broad, flaring head, the solid cylindrical shaft which broadened ever so slightly at the base; the wide, dark brown veins that ran just under the skin, feeding blood to fill that big fucker. Rick ran his hand lightly down his own trouser legs, touching his own dick, once again hard and straining at the fabric of his jeans.

He'd seen that dick in action more than once. Two years ago, when he and Biff had doubled, they both ended up plugging their dates in the car. He'd been slipping it to Janie when he heard Biff's girl gasp, choke and start to gag. In the rear-view mirror he grabbed a brief glimpse of his friend's big piece of meat sliding down his date's throat. The sight brought him to the edge of cumming almost instantly.

He remembered the time in the show­ers, after a particularly tough scrimmage. He and Biff had been joking around, as usual — making assholes of themselves, so the coach ordered fifty extra wind sprints after practice. Even the coach had left, with the order for them to lock up after they showered. Both boys were hot, sweaty and dead tired when they dragged their weary bodies into the locker room.

"Shit," wheezed Biff, "I'm so fuckin' tired I can't even move, man." Rick was so
exhausted he couldn't even talk; he simply nodded. "I think the coach is a jerkoff," Biff
continued. He collapsed on his belly along the locker benches. His gym shorts had crept up the crack of his ass, and his dirty sweaty legs were framed by his smelly jock. "Hey Ricky" Biff grunted, "c'mere. Help me pull these things off. I'm too tired to move." Rick rolled his head over and looked at his friend. His t-shirt was cut mid-belly, and the big blond's diaphragm was heaving.

His eyes were closed. His breath still hadn't come back to normal, and his chest was moving in and out, trying to catch enough oxygen for the big body. His shorts rode low on his hips; the front of the jock was visible, its dingy gray contrasting sharply with the rich gold of his body. A few yellow hairs trickled down his belly, disap­pearing into the elastic pouch. Rick could see the outline of the big boner inside. He knew Biff was hard, and his own cock leaped to attention, pushing against the confines of his own jock. Biff opened his eyes just a little, peering at Rick through mere slits.

"C'mon, Ricky boy" he teased, "slip 'em off. We're teammates, right? We're supposed to share everything." Rick had pulled the elastic away from Biff's tight belly and let it snap back, whacking his buddy in the gut.

"Go fuck yourself... Biff," he joked, "I'm gonna get in the showers and be home in time for dinner." He turned his back and trotted to the showers.

It was several minutes before a cha­grined and much shyer Biff joined him. He wore a skimpy towel around his waist, but Rick knew in a glance that his big friend still sported a major erection. Several times that day in the shower Rick turned to get a quick glimpse of Biff's meat. He was envious, yes ... but there seemed to be more.

"We're coming in, Ricky, cinch up." It was his dad, rousing him from the reverie. He'd been staring at the miles and miles of Canadian wilderness below, the streams, lakes, timber and prairie seemed to stretch forever. His dad set the plane down near the shore of a huge lake expertly, and they ferried in close to shore.

"Let's go, guys, we have to get our gear on the shore." It was Biff's dad talking. Lew Richards was one of the handsomest men Rick knew. Not as bulky as his son, Lew Richards had the golden grace of a tiger. His movements, his quiet voice and firm sense of command made Rick feel com­pletely at home. Lew — Rick had never called him anything but Lew — looked at least a decade younger than his forty years, the result, no doubt, of great genes and keeping himself in fine shape.

They launched the canoe from the belly of the plane, then Rick and Biff clambered in to catch the supplies as their fathers off-loaded them. Working side by side, in silent contact with each other, Rick was a little amazed at the ability these two men had in communicating in ways so subtle that most people wouldn't have been able to notice. A glance here, a grunt there, the gesture of a shoulder, the nod of a head, were all these two good friends ever needed to work in perfect harmony.

Standing side by side, dressed in iden­tical plaid shirts and jeans, they seemed to Rick more like older brothers than parents; both handsome, both strong and quiet, both utterly masculine. Casually Rick let his glance stray to Lew's crotch. He'd often wondered if the father was as endowed as the son. Judging from the sizable bulge that was crammed into his jeans, it would be a close match.

It was only a half-hour before all the equipment was delivered to the lakefront campsite and assembled. Two large tents — boys in one, men in the other — were situated about forty yards apart; close enough for contact, yet offering each group some privacy. They started a fire, set up the minimal cooking and sanitary facilities and settled back to relax.

"Oh no you don't, guys." It was Rick's Dad, Alan. We need to secure the plane, so hustle your asses into the skiff and let's get out there." The work was accomplished quickly. Rowing the twenty yards back to shore, Biff's exuberance overcame him. He scrambled to the front of the boat, tucked his right hand in his shirt and stared at the riverbank. "Who am I?" he queried.

It was his Dad, Lew, that answered. "Well, I'd guess either you're the Emperor Washington, or Napoleon Crossing the Delaware ... and sit down." His last words happened at the same time Biff lost his balance and fell, flipping the small boat and its occupants into the lake.

"So much for enthusiasm," joked Biff sheepishly, as they climbed on to the shore.

"Let's get out of these clothes and get on with dinner," commanded Lew 'And you, Biff — you do something like that again, and this thing is off... got it?" The boy nodded an embarrassed yes and started skinning out of his soaked clothes.

Rick could see everyone as they stripped. First Biff's broad chest, followed by his narrow waist and finally his massive cock hove into view Then Lew's chest —not as broad or as tanned as his son's, but still with beautiful definition and a washboard stomach. He turned his back as he slipped his wet briefs off, and Rick was cheated of the chance to compare father and son side by side.

He'd come to take his own dad's young good looks for granted: the dark skin —perpetually tanned, with dark silky hair covering his chest and belly. The years of long-distance running had given his father's legs almost too much definition, and the thin cock that snaked down his leg looked just like Rick's own. Rick figured that — just like his own — his dad's cock was deceiving, looking average while soft, but filling out a full seven inches long and thickly plump when hard.

Time seemed to fly. The four men had barely a chance to get the camp in order, catch a few minutes of fishing in the lake and head back to the tents before the sun sank below the distant horizon. The campsite — twenty miles northwest of Prince Albert National Park — was a wil­derness paradise, with lush virgin forests, swiftly flowing rivers and crystal clear lakes. Animals were everywhere: salmon and pike in the water, deer and moose in the glades, and birds of every description. Rick sat on a stool a hundred feet from the lake and surveyed the scene.

The camp had been erected on a narrow spit of land that thrust its way tentatively into the lake. Lush forest formed a solid wall at their back, with trees so thick they blotted out the sky. Along the lake, Rick watched the larger animals sauntering down to the water to drink before retiring, and the boy shot picture after picture of the incredible diversity of animal life that surrounded him.

The sun set quickly, and Rick checked his watch. Nine o'clock. Suddenly the day's exertions crashed in on him, and the eigh­teen year-old stifled a huge yawn. His father grinned. Turning to Lew and Biff, he an­nounced, 'All right ... let's get some sleep. We've got a helluva day tomorrow, so we need all the shuteye we can grab." He lurched off his stool and threaded his way down the path to the adults' tent. Lew did the same, but before he moved out of earshot, he turned back toward the boys and shouted, "Don't forget now: get some sleep tonight!" Then he chuckled and slipped into the darkness.

The boys sat for some time, watching the last of the fire die away. In the distance, they could see the lantern in their fathers' tent dim, then disappear.

They were alone in the Canadian wil­derness. Above, millions of stars shone for them alone. Rick felt goose bumps on his arms, and an involuntary shudder passed through his body. Biff laughed quietly.

"Hey Ricky this is what I call being alone." He spoke softly, gently; obviously impressed by the magnificence. They sat in silence for a time, the only sound the soft sighing of the wind and the occasional splash of a fish. The moon rose at the far end of the lake, and in its pale light Rick could see the lay of the land around the campsite. He could recognize the tents, the boxes of supplies, and there in the dimness, sat Biff.

His cock was out, rigid, its pale skin glowing in the early moonlight Biff was working his prick slowly, grasping its thick base and pulling the skin down toward the big glans. He was staring at Rick. The blond boy stood and slowly moved toward his dark buddy, his hand maintaining a steady rhythm on his stiff tool. Biff's voice was quiet, but excited.

"Ricky boy … see what I got?" he husked. "I can't stand it anymore, man, I want you... I need you." Rick's mouth was suddenly dry his breath came in ragged spurts. He realized that he wanted to make love to his lifelong buddy more than anything he'd ever wanted before. Rick's cock im­mediately jumped to attention, and the dark boy stood, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his own throbbing dick. Step by step, the two young men approached. Tentatively like boxers, they moved closer, until the distance between their aching cocks was invisible, a tiny millimeter that separated flesh from flesh.

Biff's big hand reached out shyly, glancing off the slick tip of Rick's rampant penis. First one finger, then two, then his palm closed over the pulsing tool. Rick sighed as he felt the warmth of his buddy's hand close over his hot, hard cock. Suddenly he knew what was wrong with Janie — she wasn't Biff! He wanted Biff, and now that he knew Biff felt the same way nothing could ever be wrong again.

Rick grabbed Biff's prick and tugged on it, sliding the skin up and over its sensitive tip. A drop of precum oozed from Biff's rod, and Rick touched the tip of his finger to the blond's piss slit, then to his own mouth. He'd tasted Biff's cum, and it was incredible.

Lightly almost delicately, the two tall teenagers played with each other's cocks. Teasing the head with promise of more stimulation, they traced the outline of the thick shafts, tickled under the ballsacks, even slipped their hands down the front of their jeans, rubbing strong leg muscles and feeling the downy fur that covered them.

Rick looked at Biff squarely, the silver moonlight glinting off the whites of his eyes and outlining his massive body with metal­lic sheen. He slipped his right hand behind the blond's neck and carefully, sensuously pulled Biff's eager mouth closer to his own. Both boys shuddered as their lips met, opening to admit for the first time in their lives another man's tongue.

Suddenly delicacy was tossed to the wind. Rick ripped open Biff's shirt, grab­bing and pulling the iron-hard muscles for all he was worth. The body he had seen in the showers hundreds of times, the body he held in football tackles for a split-second too long, was now panting with lust in his arms.

Biff was crazy with the need to cum. He rubbed his exquisitely sensitive cock along the edges of Rick's rough jeans, thrusting the dong between his buddy's legs, feeling the wet, hot junction between leg and body. Rick's cock was trapped next to his, rubbing harder and harder. He opened his mouth wider, trying to cover Rick's face with his own, trying to swallow his friend's lips, tongue, mouth and soul in one kiss. He felt Rick's fingers pulling on his nipples, grab­bing his thick crotch hair and tugging, pulling on his heavy balls in their sack, jerking his meat closer and closer to the edge.

Suddenly he couldn't hold back any more: cum flew everywhere, covering both bodies; lodging in their hair, under their arms and splattering their clothes. Within a second Rick joined him, the big gobs of sticky hot sperm flying into Biff's face, dripping down his nose, and oozing down the back of his neck.

They stood together in the moonlight, holding each other tightly. Rick felt something wet slide down his neck and chest, then realized that Biff was crying, sobbing silently.

"Ricky, Ricky," Biff moaned, "I've wanted to hold you for as long as I can remember." The blond's hands clutched his friend tighter. "Man, ever since I was ten, I knew I was in love with you. But you always had Janie, or someone like her. I didn't dare try anything until tonight. Then I just couldn't stop myself!" He nuzzled his big Nordic head in Rick's shoulder, kissing the
nape of neck lightly. Rick realized he, too, was crying.

They spent the rest of the night hold­ing, crying, talking, kissing, and discover­ing each other's body. The sun was coming up when they headed down to the lake to wash away the remains of the evening's lust. Both boys were drying off as Lew appeared, snapping his flannel shirt and buttoning his jeans.

"Ricky," he said, "after breakfast your Dad and I are gonna head north, up the shore, to see if we can spot some good fishing holes. Why don't you and Biff take some time to scout south?" Both boys nodded, relieved they wouldn't have much work to do after their night of lovemaking.

Following the meal, the two adults headed into the underbrush, skirting the shore of the lake. Rick and Biff turned in the other direction, moving south along the lakefront. Heat and humidity plagued them as they threaded their way among dense thickets, and after an hour they stripped off their shirts. Within another fifteen minutes, they came to natural barrier.

A large river emptied into the lake, its mouth easily a quarter-mile wide. The boys sat down on the bank and looked across, then smiled at each other.

"Can't go much farther," they both said in unison, tugging down their jeans and kicking them off.

Biff and Rick tumbled into the soft evergreen needles, their bodies plastered together, their mouths searching for love and sex. Rick's tongue delved into Biff's mouth, then slithered its way down the blonds' neck, chest and belly. Greedily he lapped at the deep navel, leaving a trail of saliva behind him, as Biff moaned in ap­preciation. In the daylight, Biff's prick looked huge, its golden shaft and brown head bobbing in mid-air. Without hesita­tion, Rick licked the tip of the big dick, sending waves of passion through his buddy. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, he swallowed the monster. First the head sank into Rick's mouth, then — inch by inch — he managed to fit the huge rod down his throat. Images of that double date in the back seat flooded Rick's mind, and he became even more passion-crazed. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, he laved the big tool with his tongue, slipping his tip into the wide piss slit and tasting Biff's salty precum that was flowing freely.

Biff was gasping for breath as Rick sucked on his thick tool. He placed his big, tanned hand on his friend's head and pushed the willing face farther and farther down the throbbing cock "Take it man," he moaned. "Take all of it. Then I'll take you." The promise brought even more response from Rick, who doubled the rhythm, licking and lapping at the pole like a big lollipop. Suddenly Biff's legs tensed, his balls rolled up in their sack and the blond yelled, "I'm cummin, Ricky! Swallow my fuckin' cum!"

Hungrily Rick opened his throat wide, just as Biff's dong delivered its payload of juice. The sperm splattered against the back of his throat, sliding down his esophagus without ever touching his tongue. Rick's spirits crashed; he had wanted to taste Biff's jism, and he'd missed his chance, but before he could take his mouth from the rigid tool, Biff cried out, "Fuck, man: I'm cummin again. I'm cum-min again, Ricky. Get ready!"

This time, the dark-haired youth man­aged to slide his mouth to the tip of the golden shaft as sphere after sphere of white, gooey cum shot from Biff's horny prick. Rick tasted the tangy, salty taste of his buddy's sperm, as he spilled his own juice all over the ground.

The two sweaty bodies slowly un­wound from each other, Rick's dried cum sticking to them like glue. A short dip in the cold river brought them back to reality, and they headed back to camp.

As they approached the clearing, the boys heard strange noises. At first they thought it might be bears, rummaging around in the food stores, but as they si­lently threaded their way through the un­derbrush, they began to recognize the sound of human speech. People! A few yards closer and they distinguished the voices: their fathers were yelling at each other, obviously fighting over something. Whatever it was, it was major, for they were in full voice. Rick turned to Biff, gave the Scouts 'Be quiet' signal, and the two teen­agers crept closer. What they saw blew their minds away.

There, in a clearing just a few feet from their hidden position, Biff's father was fuck­ing Rick's father. The dark man was crouched, his ass high in the air. His hands rested on his knees, and his eyes were closed in ecstasy. "Fuck me, Lew," he yelled at the top of his lungs, "fuck the everloving shit out of me with that horsedong of yours!" Both men were covered with a sheen of sweat, their taut muscles gleam­ing in the afternoon sun. Alan bent over even further, the better to fit Lew's thick cock up his steamy ass. From their vantage point in the bushes, the boys could see Lew's gleaming cylinder of skin as it parted the cheeks of Alan's ass and slid up his chute. Lew slapped the dark-haired man hard, bringing a gasp from the fuckee.

"Take it, man," the blond man cried.

"That's the way you want it... fuckin take all this big piece of meat up your slimy ass­hole." Another slap, another gasp, and a savage thrust by Lew. The boys thought the man's ass would split from the brutal attack.

Both boys were hard as rocks again, their cocks throbbing in their jeans. Silently Rick pulled his dick out and began pound­ing it. Biff moved up behind him and unfastened his trousers, then inch by inch pulled them down until they were around his ankles. Quickly and quietly he did the same for himself. Smoothly he moved behind Rick, his pounding dick just grazing the outer edge of his buddy's virgin ass. To­gether, in mounting frenzy, they watched the scene unfold.

Alan pulled his ass off Lew's pole, turned around and fell on his knees in front of his blond friend. Greedily he sucked and tugged at the massive organ, all the while pounding his own solid meat. Driven by passion, his mouth moved down to Lew's balls in the hairless sack. One by one he tongued them, pulling them into his mouth, washing them with his tongue, then spitting them out again. Panting for breath, he knelt in front of his tanned friend and licked the crack of Lew's ass, running his tongue along that deep cleft and covering Lew's fleshy assmounds with his mouth. Lew was crying out with anticipation.

"Eat that ass, Al... eat my fuckin' asshole!" Lew's butt swivelled with frustration, corkscrewing in the air, trying to force Al's mouth to its target. Finally Al's tongue made contact with Lew's shit chute, nibbl­ing the blond's brown eye, licking the delicate tissues, and lapping at the tight, pulsing sphincter.

Al drove his tongue deep up Lew's butt, lubricating the passage with spit. Deeper and deeper he probed, and Lew became almost incoherent with the need to be fucked.

"Oh yeah, man," he moaned. "that's it Al, that's it, baby. Eat that ass, but I want more, Al. Fuck me, man. Fuck the shit out of my ass." He pushed his butt down hard against Al's invading tongue, sighing in lust "More Al... more..." he chanted, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeeeeee!"

Lew's moan became a wail as Al stabbed his cock up the blond man's shitter. Without pausing for breath, he began a steady, driving rhythm. Two bodies bucked in unison, as Al's shaft pulled out almost to the tip, only to plunge in again, burying itself to the crotch. Thrust after thrust, wave after wave of passion, drove the men higher and higher in their lust.

Twenty feet away hidden by the under­brush, their sons watched, each one pound­ing his rigid prick as he watched his dad fuck. Biff moved closer, his cock lightly touching Rick's ass. The light touch be­came an insistent push, but Rick didn't care — his attention was riveted on his father as he shoved his cock up Biff's dad's asshole.

Biff spit on the shiny head of his cock. It was covered with precum, and the liquid was oozing from his cockhead and drip­ping on the ground. Harder and harder he pressed against Rick, his cock seeking entrance to that light, hot moist virgin asshole.

The boys' breaths were coming in gasps as they watched the fuck show put on by their fathers. Once again, Lew had begun to shove his rod up Al's ass, the big dick disappearing up to the hilt, his balls slapping against Al's ass. Biff positioned his trembling cock at Rick's tight asshole and pushed. With one sharp move, the big head slipped in.

Rick bucked like a stallion, pain boil­ing in his guts, but Biff held him tight, keeping his rigid schlong tight inside Rick's bunghole. Rick knew he couldn't cry out, and he took long, deep breaths trying to dissipate the pain.

The show at the campsite was nearing its end as Biff began to slowly stroke his buddy's ass with his big dick. Al was bent double, his hands pulling his asscheeks wide so Lew's cock could slip farther up his bowels. The men were panting, Lew pump­ing with a savage, thrusting rhythm, and Al pulling his cock for all he was worth. In the bushes, Biff's big dork had established its own rhythm, and Rick had discovered that after the initial pain, his guts had a warm, full feeling. He looked down at his groin, and there, through his legs, he could see his buddy's cock sliding up his asshole, filling his guts to overflowing. "Fuck me, Biff," he whispered. "Slide that cock up my asshole and fucking fill me up!" he moaned. Biff was sweating like a pig, grunting in time to his thrusts. The boys fell on their bellies, Rick scampering up on his knees so Biff could enter him from behind. Both boys had their eyes closed in passion, their breathing coming in heavy gasps, when they heard the bushes rustle.

There, towering above them, stood their fathers, stark naked, both nursing gigantic erections. A smile filled Al's face.

"Well, Lew," he husked, his voice thick with lust, "I see like father, like son."

Lew was pulling his cock, which had grown hard again after his orgasm just moments before. "I guess so, Al," he con­curred. I always wondered what it would be like to fuck the shit out of your boy as well as you. Now I guess I'll find out!"

A new wave of lust overtook Rick as he saw the father of his best buddy standing there with a monster of a hard-on. He'd felt Biff's big dick up his ass... now he wanted to feel Lew's. He pulled away from Biff's cock and leaped to his feet. He spit on his fingers, rubbed them over his swollen, tender ass, and bent over.

Slowly Rick pushed the man's rod up his rear chute. Head first, then inch by inch, the shaft slowly disappeared up his butt "Fuck me, Lew," he pleaded. "I want your dick and I want it now!"

Lew began fucking the eighteen year old with incredible vigor. Rick braced him­self against Biff's father's legs, just inches from his dad's cock. With lust-filled eyes he looked up at his dad, then swallowed hard and began sucking his father's dong.

Al's eyes closed in passion. His son was sucking on his cock while being fucked by his best friend. He peered from underneath the lashes to see Lew's tool sliding up Rick's young ass. The strokes came faster and faster, Rick begging for more. Biff jumped off the ground and stood stroking his hard pole, precum dripping out the end like a broken faucet.

"Biff," Al whispered, "that prick of yours belongs up someone's asshole, and it needs to be there soon. Look at your dad... he needs to get fucked, buddy. Why don't you slip him your cock?"

"Oh yeah!" Biff exclaimed. With one swift motion he rammed the rod up his father's butt, pushing his cock in to the root. Thrust followed thrust as Biff edged closer to cumming. Just before the final moment he pulled out, took a deep breath, and shoved his dripping tool up Al's ass. Mean­while Rick had impaled himself on his father's cock and began sucking Lew's thick prick. For hours it lasted, each man fucking the other. Father fucking son, son fucking father, friend fucking friend.

Four enormous simultaneous or­gasms filled the forest air with cries of lust, as four horny men came while fulfilling their most unbelievable fantasy.

Later that afternoon, as they washed their tender asses in the cooling water of the lake, Rick turned to Biff and smiled.

"It's gonna be one helluva vacation," he grinned.

The End

 

 

 

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The lists of the artists who create the amazing gay art and 3D renders and links to their pages!

EVERY PAGE ON THIS SITE IS FREE!

FREE OF ADWARE, SPYWARE, POP-UPS, OR TRACKERS

(I have no interest in what websites you visit or what you do in your spare time, unless it's in my bed!)

AND BEST OF ALL, Daddyshere is

FREE OF COST!

SO WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

YOU ARE WELCOME TO ENJOY THESE OTHER PAGES AS WELL! 

And on a page all his own!

Catch the amazing work of

Etienne/Stephen!

MY PERSONAL PAGES!

MEET DADDY

 

 Click my pictures to go to Daddy's Bio

A few words about your host!

 

This page contains photo and artwork images of  young and older men and erotic relationships between the two. If you find this subject objectionable, I suggest you move on to another page or another site!

The new pages for Daddys & Sons ~ Older/Younger Men's photos and toons.

The pages at Daddy's Men & Boyz, also contains photos and artwork images of  young and older men and erotic relationships between the two. If you find this subject objectionable, I suggest you move on to another page or another site!

Collection of

AND

These are erotic, animated gifs that I've received via the Internet and/or email!

Got similar, short videos you'd like to share? Send them to me and I'll place them here! They MUST be animated gifs or bitmaps, NOT full length videos.

daddyzhere@gmail.com

 

(What I will NOT post)

female genitalia or heterosexual interaction

Scat

Minors

MY EROTIC ART

(All the artwork, logos, and icons (indicated with ©) on my pages are copyright protected and were created by me and may not be used by anyone else without express permission from me or from Artistic Affairs© )

Computer Graphics ~ Portrait Artwork

& ADULT GRAPHICS

©

MY EROTIC FICTION

Click on the Gossips for

Stories I Could Tell You

(Gay erotic fiction: Short stories available now!)

CHECK OUT MY NEWLY COMPLETED NOVELLAS

 

©

You can read the whole novella by clicking on the title,

or the two sample chapters below, by going to

BACKWOODS I

BACKWOODS II

WARNING!

This novella contains violence and forced sexual acts upon minors.

The perpetrators are punished for their behavior, still, if you find this offensive, do NOT read it!

My Erotic Sci-Fi Novella

WARNING!

This novella contains violence and forced sexual acts upon minors. The perpetrators are punished for their behavior, still, if you find this offensive, do NOT read it!

 

or just check out the sample chapter below, by going to

KERN'S FANTASY

 

 

THE B'ANATI ~ Alternate Version

You can read the ALTERNATE version of the novella by clicking on the title above.

This version includes sex acts, both consensual and forced, however, all parties in this version are of legal age.

 

Multiple pages of erotic photos dedicated to guys who enjoy their socks fetish, in whichever way they choose ~ Top, Bottom or going Versatile.

 

DADDY'S SOX

This page is dedicated to my socks fetish!

Artwork by artists like Etienne, Stephen and more!!

All especially dedicated to the Sox Fetish!

A WHOLE LOT MORE SOX!

SOME OF MY FAVORITE, ANONYMOUS, SOX PIX

FROM DONORS AND FROM THE INTERNET!

RAUNCHY SOX, JOX 'N' SOX, BONDAGE SOX & MORE!

Click these raunchy sox!

Like what you've seen? Link to www.daddyshere.com

(Just right click on the banner AND copy/paste it to your website!)

Thanks for dropping by!!

 

Hope you're enjoying your visit! Your best wishes, comments or cusses are read and, for the most part, welcome! Just email me by clicking on my male-box !