Date: Thu, 08 Feb 2001 03:41:22 -0400
From: usmcbb@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Semper Fi Son Chapter 2-4

Semper Fi, Son
Chapter V

Over the next several weeks, Don and Mark spent almost all of their free
time together as their bond grew stronger and deeper.  Their routine was
simple and Don made sure it was a disciplined one, making Mark get ready
for the rigors of boot camp early.  Mark's mom welcomed Don's help with
Mark's preparation and honestly, could use the peace and quiet.  Mark moved
a few things into Don's and generally only spent time at his mom's house a
few weekends to pick up some stuff and to check in with her.  Don and Mark
would get up just a bit before 5AM, Don preparing two quick protein shakes
while Mark made their bed, cleaned up the room and got it ready for
inspection, making sure he followed Don's instructions to the letter as to
how to make the bed according to military specifications and his day's
clothes pressed and prepared as if his uniform, with special attention to
make sure the jump boots Don gave him were spit shined and clean.  They
were Don's original jump boots from his last tour and it gave him special
pride to see them on his son.  Don would finish up the inspection by
standing next to his son, both in their white tank tops and white boxers,
trimming his own and Mark's whitewalls and a precise shave.  Don would
throw on a pair of his USMC sweats and Mark a pair of his wrestling warm up
sweats, pull on their Otomix and head for the door with their day's gear
stowed in the duffel bag with the USMC logo thrown into the back of the
car, heading towards Venice to Gold's.  If time permitted, a quick
post-workout breakfast at the Firehouse and then Don would drop Mark off at
school and head to the station for his shift.

Don's days at work flew by, thinking about Mark and what was happening
between them.  Most of the day he would be thinking about how training was
going, or what they would do that evening.  A few of his buddies had
noticed he was a little absent minded and not spending the same amount of
time hanging out with them, but dismissed it as something else.  Most days
during the week, Don would end his shift quickly without wasting time at
the station chit chatting and get into his car, without changing out of his
gear and rush to Mark's high school gymnasium or to wherever the wrestling
meet was in the city.  Don had missed only one in the past few weeks due to
an accident and some forced overtime, but was almost always either in the
stands or standing off to the side, monitoring his progress.

Mark responded beautifully to all the attention and discipline.  His grades
shot up, his wrestling meets were almost uniformly stronger, placing him on
track to the All State Championships.  But most amazing was how his body
was responding to Don's constant training.  Don used everything he knew
about bodybuilding and his experience through the military to prepare Mark
for this next phase of training and it was paying off in ways even Don
couldn't have imagined.

Mark had trained hard, lifting heavy, frequently and with very little
cardio.  The effect was to pack on as much mass as possible at the expense
of definition.  But the changes in his regime as coached by Don added a
nightly run after dinner to prepare for the hikes he would be doing
everyday in the Cops.  Don also increased his protein intake and lightened
the loads and increased the frequency of the weights his son was lifting.
In just six short weeks, the effect was to turn Mark's solid 200 lb, 5'9
frame into a near perfect competition specimen.  The bulk that amassed was
now being chiseled into striated muscle.  His pecs were starting to square
off instead of being rounded, his biceps peaking in two, distinct mounds,
delts as sharp horseshoes, his abs a solid 8 pack and his waist tightly
muscled.  Don finally shaved his son's legs one night and Mark finally
understood the advantage and kept them that way, even despite a few taunts
from his fellow wrestlers.  The quads were distinctly shredded and his
calves a perfect 19" diamond, just like his dad's.

A few of the fellow lifters and bodybuilders at Gold's started taking
notice of this up and coming competitor, eyeing him with suspicion and
lust.  They knew better than to approach him though as he never appeared
without Don who made his eye contact with the other jocks express his
possessiveness of his son.  And Don was an excellent, possessive coach,
critiquing Mark's progress and adjusting his regime when he needed, making
sure his caloric intake and training techniques adapted as his son
redefined his body.  Or more accurately, as Don instructed and coached him
into remaking his body into his own image.

One weekend, Don had the luxury of being off and Mark had no practice, so
they could spend the entire day together.  They decided to hit the gym
early and worked out together for a few hours at a slow, comfortable pace.
They hit the showers and threw on their off-duty uniform composed of a
white tank top, jock and tight USMC PT cotton gym shorts, each of their
quads pushing the fabric tightly around their massive legs, white socks and
their matching Otomix, unlaced and comfortable as wrestling shoes.  They
decided to just walk down the beach front, no destination in mind.  Don
felt comfortable and relaxed, pumped and at ease to be with his son.  Mark
felt alive and pumped, looking forward to doing nothing in particular with
his dad at his side.  The two of them had truly bonded, and more amazingly,
they looked undeniably like father and son.  So much so that Don felt
comfortable loosely putting his hand around Mark's shoulders as they walked
occasionally, joshing around with Mark and pulling him closer as they
walked, knocking him slightly off balance.  They talked about Mark's
upcoming wrestling championships and the end of school as well as the Corps
and when to enlist.  Don was proud, full of love and protectiveness, just
walking with his son.  And turned to him and said, staring directly into
his Mark's eyes, and said it, "I'm proud of you, son.  I love you very
much, you know that, don't' you?"  And Mark barely replied, smiled, and
nodded saying, "Yes, Sir, I do."

They finished there walk at sunset and drove home, Mark twiddling with the
radio station dial as Don occasionally reached over and squeezed Mark's
neck, his USMC signet ring gliding over the smooth skin.  Don parked the
car when they got home and the both of them, perfectly at peace walked into
the apartment, throwing down the gear and feeling at home.  Don began
taking a few chicken breasts out of the freezer and some greens, preparing
a quick dinner for him and Mark.  Mark decided to gather up the week's
laundry and started sorting out the whites and began the laundry -- a
perfectly domestic scene.  Over dinner, they talked about training, on how
Mark's body was trimming up nicely, reducing to striations and lean muscle.
Don's body was changing too.  He had gained close to 20 pounds of mass in
the last six weeks since working out with Mark.  Although not as defined,
his muscle mass was increasing at an incredible rate, packing on at least
3/4" of an inch to his biceps and a good inch to his chest, making his CHP
uniform even tighter and making his quads stretch tighter in his breeches.
"Yeah, I noticed, and really like it," Mark said.  Don stared at him, a wry
smile and raised an eyebrow.  More confident now in expressing himself,
Mark continued, "Yeah, I really, really like that you're bigger.  Gives me
something to aspire to.  I mean, I like being more ripped now and
understand why we've changed my routine, but I always liked huge
bodybuilders and you definitely look like that, dad.  Besides, your uniform
looks even better," Mark said, smiling.

They finished dinner and gathered up the laundry, taking it into the
bedroom to fold and put away.  Initially, Don had cleared out half of his
dresser for Mark's school clothes and his gear.  But eventually, Don
started supplying more and more of his gear to Mark, even going out and
buying him what he needed, but mostly preferring to see him in his own
gear.  Even with the difference in their weight, build and size, though,
the boxers and white tank that made up the base of their uniform everyday,
socks, jocks, some T's, their sweats were shared and placed in one drawer
they both used.  They stood at the foot of the bed, folding their tanks and
boxers with military precision as Don taught his son.  "So, you like you're
old man's muscles bigger, then, son?"  Don asked.  "Um, yeah, I do, they're
massive already but more is more, ya know?"  Mark said smiling, punching
Don in the bicep.  Don placed a stack of freshly laundered white tank tops
into the drawer and stood up, flexing his bicep in the one he wore, Mark
behind him finishing up the rest of the laundry.  Don gazed on his son's
massive back, the lats spread as he moved his arms... he was definitely
ready to enter a competition.  Don drifted back to earlier that day when
they were both at Gold's, Mark still upstairs in the lockerroom as Don was
downstairs talking with Bob at the counter.  Bob was an ex-competitor and
now ran the place on weekends, mostly in exchange for free membership for
him and the chance to scope out the newest muscle to bed.  Don was asking
Bob about the different options to re-up his membership and include Mark
for the next year.  "So, how long you been plugging the kid?"  Bob asked,
smiling at Don.  "He's a hot piece of ass, bet he goes down on you like a
tiger, bud," Bob said smiling.  Don stared at him for a minute and slowly
felt his blood pressure raise.  His face red he swiftly grabbed Bob by the
back of his head, pulling him into him as if to conceal a confidence,
smiling back at him.  Face to face, Bob eagerly offering his ear to hear
how this young musclejock was blowing a hot muscle cop.  Don whispered with
a sterness he learned from the Corps, a tone that you didn't dismiss and
sent a shiver down Bob's spine, "If you ever touch him, I'll kill you," Don
said with certainty, "He's my son."  Bob reeled back and just stared and
knew that Don would, and could, kill him right there.  Don put down his
money to renew his and his son's memberships and stared at Bob who handed
him his papers and meekly said, "Sorry, Don, I didn't know," clearly
shaken.

Now looking at Mark, bent over at the foot of the bed, he pumped his chest
a little tighter against the tank top and feels proud for making that
statement.  Feeling extremely protective of his son and the progress he was
making.  Truth was, what Bob said made him think of the sex he was having
with this stud.  It was the best he ever had.  The term "musclesex" was
bereft of definition in describing what he and Mark were doing.  Everyday,
several times a day.  Mark took to his dad like a true stud, always up for
it and never tired.  Don had a lot of studs in his life, but no one that
ever synched up with his sexual tastes for power, muscle, and gear.  Each
day, he discovered something new about Mark and Don grew in his
understanding of Don's deep care for him.  "So, you like your dad's new
mass, son, huh?"  Don asked staring at his own pecs in the mirror.  Mark
turned around, a pile of sweats in his arms, perfectly folded and placed
them on the dresser, standing next to his musclebound dad.  "Yes, I do,
dad" he states seriously.  Don stared at his own image, flexing his
impressive chest in the tight constraints of a tank top a size too small.
"You like the size and the power, don't you son, as you feel your own
muscles getting bigger, huh ...?"  Don's question trailed off as he removed
his tank top and ran his hands over his pecs, feeling his cock getting
harder in his shorts.  His left hand on the waistband of his white USMC PT
shorts snuggly hanging onto his waist.  "You want your dad to compete
again, son?"  Don asked, without waiting for an answer, "you and me on that
stage together, huh?"  Don was now pumping his pecs and arms, his biceps in
a double flex, "Blowing the minds of those other musclejocks, huh son?"
Don could see it and wanted it and knew it would happen eventually, his
body straining as he went from cold stasis to engorging his muscles with
blood, including his cock now at full erection in his shorts.  The thought
of him and his son on stage competing together excited him beyond reason
because he knew it was possible.  Without even a word, Mark was beside him
in the mirror, barechested, his tank top tossed ont he floor, crumpled up
ontop of his dad's on the carpet, his own shorts straining, focusing on his
own bicep, inspecting it's newly striated and peaked form and slowly
pumping it back and forth, pushing blood into it's massive bicep.  "You
live for this muscle, don't you son?"  Don asked as the two of them started
to reach a maximum pump, their cocks straining for each other through the
thin cotton fabric of their shorts.  Don flexed his biceps and pecs as he
spread his stance, accentuating his quads, "Shit, I am getting bigger," he
thought to himself as he felt his new power, "Must be the new workouts or
the juice," he thought, he was taking a cycle without telling Mark.  But he
felt powerful and charged, staring at the power that was his son in front
of him.  Mark kneeled down in front of Don, staring up at him as he began
to suck on his cock through his shorts, feeling the jock underneath,
smelling his dad's muscle as he began to loose himself in the testosterone
and muscle.  "That's it son, become a muscle animal, son, gorge yourself on
my muscle, feed on it."  Don was feeling more powerful than he ever did in
his life, his cock being sucked at in his gear by his muscle son.  With a
tremendous groan, he popped his double peaked biceps to full attention and
felt his full strength as his cock ejaculated into his jock, soaking it and
his gym shorts.  Exhausted, breathing hard as he reclaimed his strength, he
could feel his son sucking still on his cock through his shorts, extracting
the cum, Don's hand laid gently on his son's head, guiding him to where his
cum was.  Don stood, visibly shaken, his former flexed posture relaxed with
ejaculation now leaned against the bench that dresser formed, his back to
the mirror as his son sucked his shorts and jock dry.  Don hooked his
thumbs under the waistband of his jock and shorts and pulled them down
around his knees so that Mark could lick him clean of his cum, now spread
all over his crotch.  Mark's eager mouth and active tongue bringing Don to
the fine point of pleasure and pain on his sensitive cock and balls.
Guiding his son's head, he watched as Mark sucked every drop of his cum
onto his mouth like a starved pup, lapping at his balls and cleaning his
cock with his tongue.  "Oh, son," Don moaned as he felt his muscle son
clean him, ingesting his raw muscle, Don's hands on his son's immense
rhomboids.

Mark stood up, at attention and becoming more and more the Marine that he
was, staring directly at his dad's eyes as Don ran his corded, muscular
forearm over his son's shorts, feeling his beautiful 8" cut cock straining
inside his gear.  "You feel that cum inside of you, don't you son?"  asked
Don, slowly running his hands over his son's beautiful torso.  "You feel it
making you bigger already, don't you, getting ready for your wrestling
match tomorrow, don't you?"

Mark just gazed hungrily back into his dad's eyes and nodded.  HE could
never understand the enormity of the power that his huge, musclebound dad
had over him who always knew what he was thinking.  At every moment he
wanted to blurt out "Sir, Yes Sir!" with the same authority that Marines
do, to be his dad's Marine but he also knew he was already, the perfect son
for Don.

"Son, I've got a special surprise for you, I want you to have this for your
match tomorrow."  Don knew Mark's qualifying rounds for the All States were
tomorrow after school, early in the evening and he already made plans to be
there to coach him on.  Mark just stared at him, his cock still hard in his
shorts, his muscles still pumped.  Don kicked off the shorts still around
his knees, removing his jock and tossing it into a corner, confident his
son would clean it up like a good Marine in the morning.  He bent down and
opened a drawer in his chest that stored some of his gym gear.  Rooting
around, his hand fell upon the cool spandex that had been silently tucked
away for many years under sweats and workout towels.  He retracted his arm
with the package intact, a tightly folded package of his prized USMC
wrestling singlet, the one he won the Armed Forces Championship in about 28
years ago and let it unfold as he held it by the straps.  With this back to
Mark, he eyed the singlet for the first time in years, the red fabric with
gold double stripes down the side, a large USMC eagle & anchor logo on the
right leg.  The straps cut extra wide and the neckline very low.  Don
remembered the many matches he had in this singlet, how drenched in sweat
and clinging on his young frame it had been, so many times.  A wiff of the
spandex and sweat embedded in the fabric began to stir his cock again as he
turned and handed it by the straps to his son.  "Put this on, son, I want
to see how you look in it."

Mark carefully glided his erect cock out of his jock and shorts, tossing
them into the corner and held the singlet in front of his pumped, muscular
body and stripped out of his shorts as Don sat on the edge of the bed,
watching.  Don propped himself up on the bed, his hands stretched behind
his head, his legs spread on the bed, watching his son explore his Marine
singlet, slowly possessing it and making it his own.  Don reached down, his
hand cupping his balls, feeling his cock, still draining cum from the quick
blow job he received earlier.  But half holding it, half stroking it,
connecting to his manhood.

Mark stood at the foot of the bed, not a stranger to exhibiting his muscle
and getting new energy from doing it now with a newly built body, thanks to
Don's coaching.  He was proud to be in front of his dad, and honored that
his dad was on the bed, watching him enjoy his new singlet.  Mark Quickly
stepped into the singlet, the gold double stripes hugging snugly against
his muscular frame, the red front panel highlighting his 8 pack and defined
pecs. He slowly ran the spandex up his thighs, pulling the straps, one by
one unto his shoulders, the straps aching with tension as they stretched
over his body.  Don watched as his son adjusted himself in his own USMC
wrestling singlet, fixating on the USMC seal on his ht leg, stretched paper
thin over his son's massive quads.  Even at his age, that singlet would
have been tight, but not this tight.  His son was growing into a huge
muscular Marine and Don knew it by how that singlet fit tighter and snugger
than it ever had on him.  He lay back watching his son running his hand
over the material, feeling the power and sweat in that garment soak into
him like he did with every piece of gear Don gave him.  Don lay back on the
bed and started absentmindedly stroking his cock and fondling his pecs.

Mark stood at the end of the bed, proud and erect, his cock snug in the
singlet and his pecs jutted out, smiling at his dad.  "So, whaddya think,
dad?" he asked.  "Flex those guns son, feel that power."  Don replied,
stroking his cock as it grew harder.  "Show your dad your power, stud!"
Mark grew comfortable in his new singlet very quickly, adjusting it to his
physique.  Although it was tight, it was very expansive and accommodated
him well, stretched by years of his dad's working out in it, the spandex
and lycra well worn by sweat and friction.  He stood at the bottom of the
bed, fully enjoying being the focus of his dad's attention and began to
flex for his dad's attention.  And he got it, Don's eyes glared with
pleasure as he locked into the vision of his son in his USMC wrestling
singlet that he himself had not worn for years.  He was staring at a vision
of himself, only more built, and began to stroke his cock with a more
firmer, tighter and quicker grasp.  "Gr.," Don growled, "That's it son,
feel that muscle."  Don drew himself up and started to focus on the way the
gold stripes were curving over his son's massive quads, how the cock bulge
was filling out the front, the straps aching with the stress of being
pulled over his pecs.  "Turn around son, look at yourself in the mirror,"
Don said.  He reached out and began to lightly run his hands over Mark's
shaved legs, exactly where they disappeared into the hem of the singlet jam
leg, then up, over the side stripe.  Mark was now fully locked into a gaze
with himself in the mirror, beginning to flex his shoulders and pecs in
preparation for a full posing routine, adjusting himself and his muscles to
this new piece of gear.  Mark was amazed at the difference in his own
musculature from only a few weeks ago and the difference that the shaving
and the tight regulation high n tight made in his appearance.  He was more
muscular for sure, but also commanded a much larger presence from the
confidence he was receiving from Don, his dad.  He could feel his cock
straining against the material and he felt more powerful and focused than
ever, feeling a slight tingling sensation as Don's sweat and cum and
testosterone from so many years ago began to melt into his skin as he
warmed up the singlet.  Don, nude, his cock coming back to attention stood
behind Mark as his son began to explore his own power.  Don could tell, he
could tell by the look in his eyes reflected by the mirror that Mark was
finally understanding the depth of this power.  Don reached around his
son's traps and began to ran his open palms over his son's pecs contained
in the singlet.  He pulled himself closer to Mark, pressing his pecs into
his back, his hands openly roaming over his son's perfect chest and abs,
more rubbing than stroking.  He leaned closer, his blond cop stache rubbing
against the back of Mark's shaved high n tight, now lightly covered in
stubble.  Don lightly licked his son's neck and back of his shaved head,
tasting the muscle sweat and testosterone emanating from him.  Mark was now
fully focused on his flexed body, watching the muscle constrained by the
USMC wrestling singlet that was his dad's and the one that he was now
claiming as his own.  Behind him, Don pulled him even tighter, running his
hands over his son's perfect muscular physique, feeling his hands run over
the straps of the red singlet, feeling the pressure exerted by the solid
mounds of young muscle underneath them.  As he began to lick his son's neck
he started whispering into his ear: "feel your muscle, feel the power, son,
feel me behind you."  Don started to rub harder on the hard, young muscle
that so o reminded him of himself at that age and the added effect of the
his singlet made him lose all bearing.  His cock was now hard, brushing
against the two globes of his son's ass, tight in the singlet, the material
giving him back a sensation, a vaguely familiar feel.

Mark was in another world, focused entirely on the pumped feel of flexing
and his fathers hands were mere extensions of his own, running over his
tightly muscled body.  "That's it, dad, feel my muscle, our muscle," he
grunted between flexes watching himself in the mirror, letting his cock
push forth his own testosterone and precum into the singlet.  He watched as
the heavily muscle-roped arms of his dad reached up and slid their thumbs
under the singlet's straps and pulled them down to expose his now sweating
pecs and half of his abs, the singlet still covering his hard cock and
lower abdomen.

Don could not longer control his urge to have this muscle, to fuse with it,
to become himself.  His hands were now a blur, covering every inch of the
young bodybuilders magnificent torso, grunting into his ear from behind,
his words became simpler as he started to bite into his son's shoulders,
triceps and rhomboids, wanting to devour him and love him as himself.
"Son," he grunted, "we are one," Don gasped as he reached down and tore at
the back of the straps-down singlet to reveal Mark's beautiful ass.  He
simply spat into his palm and guided his cock into Mark's ass.  It was a
perfect fit with almost no resistance.  He reached around and grabbed his
son's cock in his singlet and slowly began to stroke it through the
material.

Mark was jolted but oddly comforted by Don's penetration.  He put his left
arm up and flexed with more fury and concentrated power than he thought
possible, the double peak of his bicep rising as a mass mountain of muscle.
He turned his head and brought the bicep close enough so that he could lick
it, tasting his sweat and salty perspiration.  Out of the corner of his eye
he could see, and his body could feel the warm embrace, of his dad's hand
slowly stroking his cock just as if he was himself -- the same rhythm, the
same cadence, the same pressure.  And he could hear Don's breath in his ear
and his staccato words.

"That's it son, worship our muscle, make love to both of us, lick your
bicep, musclejock."  Don picked up the pace and felt as if he were jacking
himself off, his cock now in rhythm with his strokes inside Mark's ass.  As
if he were reaching down into Mark and jacking his own cock off inside his
son's.  Don continued to grunt as he instructed Mark to flex his pecs, his
abs, his quads, all in procession to demonstrate their power.  "That's it,
son, feel that power of me, feel our power.  When I come in you, keep that
with you, feed off it, son.  I want you to come in that singlet and wear it
at trials tomorrow, son, let those other boys smell what a musclejock you
are, scare them away."  Don suddenly stopped speaking and felt his load
flow into his son's ass, gripping him tightly in a series of extreme
muscular ejaculations, gripping onto Mark's hard shoulders as he was
paralyzed with the force of the pleasure and the intensity of the power
flowing out of him.  The force was enormous and Mark was stunned, frozen in
mid bicep curl as he felt his dad's power rush into him.  He was energized
and only one thing mattered.  He started bucking his hips to get any
sensation in his cock from his dad's now frozen hand on his cock in his
singlet.

Overcome with the energy drain, Don slammed back on the bed, breathing
heavily, feeling weak, slightly shaking from the enormity of his
ejaculation.  Mark stood at the foot of the bed, feeling a mixture of power
of awe at his own strength, his feet wide apart, gazing down at his muscle
dad, a spent cop with cum still on his half hard cock.  He reached down and
placed his hand under Don's head and pulled him up in one swift move, his
cock straining against the singlet.  "Make me a man, dad," he said sternly,
"finish me off." And he hit a most muscular as Don, exhausted, dove his
mouth onto Mark's cock, sucking it through his own singlet, the USMC logo
brushing against his stubbled cheek as he felt the first of Mark's cum
begin to blow through it.

Semper Fi, Son Chapter VI

The alarm rang at 4:50 as always and Don reached his hand up to smack the
snooze alarm, hard.  After last night's exploration of each other, they
both needed some rest.  And Don further rationalized a break from their
highly regimented mornings by thinking to himself that his son needed some
extra rest for his upcoming wrestling trials later that day.  But due to
his days in the Corps, he never could back to sleep after waking up so just
lay there, thinking and looking at the beautiful boy next to him.  He rest
his massive forearm back over Mark's traps as they always slept.  "Hmmm,
gonna have to go extra tight on the back," Don said, staring at Mark's
blond high n tight cut that now had the faintest stubble on it, the stubble
he was licking when he brought his son to a closer understanding of his own
muscle and power.  He could hear Mark mumbling and breathing, no doubt
aware that he was being given a reprieve from their usually strict
mornings.  Don reached out and gently stroked the back of Mark's head,
running his callused hand over the slight stubble and his shoulders and
neck, his son's smooth skin perfect in how it contained so much muscle,
even when relaxed.  "MMMMMhmmmm, um," Mark growled, "wha' time is it?" he
asked.  "Don't worry son, you get a break this morning after your
performance last night.  Besides, you need the rest, just go back to sleep
and I'll get you to school on my way to work."  Don whispered, and
truthfully, he was glad not to hit the gym as he was overtraining and his
muscles were telling him so.  His usual Marine discipline was pouring into
his son.  His high n tight was now more of an officer's cut, his blond hair
an unheard of 1/2" at the front, and his shaved whitewalls now more of a
buzz.  He had stopped shaving his chest and legs and they were now sporting
a good amount of blond hair.  All this was fine as his definition of his
muscles was now almost obliterated by the mass growth of his muscular
frame.  At almost 250#, he didn't need, nor would he ever, see striations
till he changed his training routine.  All his energy was going into
transforming Mark into a vision of himself as he was at his age.  Their
normal AM ritual now was comprised almost exclusively on grooming and
shaving Mark to make sure he was perfect, every hair shaved and groomed,
every aspect of his dress military precise.

Don wrapped his hairy forearm tighter, his bicep hitting Mark's traps, he
simply flexed them to bring his son closer to him and whispered, "God, I
love you, son," and drifted into an early morning half-sleep, smiling.

Don awoke an hour later and got out of bed, leaving Mark snoring, pulled on
a pair of white boxers and headed to the kitchen, mixing two protein
shakes.  He walked back to the bedroom and bellowed, in his best drill
sergeant voice, "Rise and Shine Marine!" and extended Mark's protein drink
to him in bed.  Startled at first, Mark pulled the pillow over his eyes and
groaned.  "You heard me Marine, time to go!"  Don yelled with a smile at
the end of his scowl.  He placed the drink on the sidetable and walked into
the closet, pulling his CHP gear out and laying it out on the dresser.  Don
started to assemble his work clothes and tell Mark that he would just drop
him off at school and see him after work at the gym in Riverside where the
trials were.  Don took a quick shower and shave and walked back into the
bedroom to get dressed, Mark still in bed, sitting up and sucking at his
shake.  "Now, son, I want you to say focused on these trials," Don said as
he pulled on his white boxers and tank, stretching over his now hairy pecs
and adjusting the fabric to align and firm over his pecs.  "You want those
boys to smell your power, remember, son?"  Mark just nodded as he drank,
watching his dad.  Don pulled on his CHP uniform shirt and adjusted the
neckline, speaking as he did this, "You know you have the skill to make
this right son?" he said absentmindedly as he started button the top
button, leaving just a glimpse of the rim of white tank underneath and a
few tufts of blond hair.  "You didn't come this far to lose, now did you?"
Don asked while scooping up his breeches with one hand, not even looking at
Mark.  Mark was finishing the dregs of his protein shake, sitting up in bed
and watching his dad dress, his eyes pinned to every muscle as he moved,
this amazingly muscular cop who was his dad, who was, indeed, him when he
aged.

Don arranged his breeches, skin tight, pulling at the calf and at the quad
to get the strip aligned.  Even with the effort, the stripe curved around
his massive 29" quads and held firmly at his calves.  Looking up as he
buckled his garrison belt, he looked directly into Mark's eyes, Mark who
was staring as he simply held the empty glass of protein shake in his hand,
mid air.  "You listening, boy?"  Don demanded.  Conscious of the time, Don
didn't wait for an answer and went back into the closet to select out his
Dehners.  "Son, get over here and clean this up and hurry, we ain't got
much time," Don barked from the closet and watched as Mark jumped out of
bed, nude with a half hard on and grabbed the boots out of his hands as he
stood in his white socks and full uniform and started to pin his badge on
and adjust his gun belt, making sure everything was in order for his day.

Mark, on his knees, knew the drill and proceeded to spit shine the Dehners,
which were, truth be told, already at a mirror finish.  He was proud to
this, to make sure that his dad shone above all others on the force and
that he was above regulation, just like he aspired to be as a Marine,
trained by his dad.  Finished with a high buff, Mark looked up, Don
standing in front of him in full gear, staring down with a smile.  Don
extended his right and slid the first boot on, then the left, adjusting
them as his calves creaked against the tight leather.  His leather glove on
his son's head, he rubbed the short flattop and said, "thanks, son."
Looking at Mark, nude on his knees made Don's cock stretch his breeches
instantly.  The musculature was unbelievable, the bright blue eyes staring
right back at him with wonderment and awe.

Without words, Mark quietly moved his head closer to his dad's bulge and
started to lick the hard cock contained within the tight cop breeches,
feeling his dad's manhood under his uniform.  Don reacted instantly by
holding his gloved leather hand on the back of his son's head, guiding him
towards his cock head.  "You like that smell, huh son?  You like that
gear?" Don mocked as he slammed his son's head into the gun belt's buckle.
"C'mon son, make yer dad feel right and tight, son." Mark started sucking
feverishly, bring Don quickly to the point of return.  "Aw, shit son," Don
exclaimed as his boots creaked under the burden of his weakening knees.
"Shit, oh god yeah!" Don was close and bleary eyed with pleasure as he felt
Mark stand up and unzip the fly of his breeches.  "Oh shit, son, what are
you doing to me?"  Don asked as he opened his eyes.  In front of him was
his splitting image, smiling and flexing one bicep right in front of his
face, his other hand somewhere around his belt, fumbling.  Don
instinctually moved his head closer and began to lick the ropes of vein and
muscle on his son's competition ready bicep.  Lost in this muscle worship
of himself and his son, he didn't feel his son's cock pushed through the
fly of skin tight breeches.

"Dad, this is for you," Mark grunted as he gave one last massive flex of
his bicep under Don's tongue and shot his load into his dad's breeches,
mixing with Don's own cum an instant before at his son's own mouth.
Breathing deeply, faint from the exertion of mixing their two muscle cums,
both relaxed a second, Don holding his son against his uniform clad chest.
"C'mon son," Don said, I've got to get you to school and me to work..." he
said, with a smile under his blond stache, "And you've got a State
Championship to win!"