Date: Fri, 31 Jul 2015 14:22:12 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <ad4dad@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Honeymooners

Greetings, dudes. Been stroking my dick to the amazing stories on Nifty
since 1999, so I figured it was about time to do my part. I've been writing
dirty family stories on my Tumblr – a4f101.tumblr.com – for a few
months now, and I'm sharing them here with you too. There's more there, too
– more stories, from me and my likeminded buds – so come check it
out. Hit the Story Time link at the top for more than 250 dirty tales, all
by me, with the pics that inspired them.

You can see this story, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/109727212339/

This story is an original work of fiction, copyright me 2015. I own it, and
all legal rights to it. If you're not of legal age in your jurisdiction to
be reading it, do us both a favor and come back to it when you are.

Love to hear from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. And hey – Nifty is an
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*****

Even on the first morning of our honeymoon, he got up early to work
out. Ordinarily, I'd be right beside him, pushing my young, but equally
muscled form to match him, trying to keep up with the big, thick-built stud
I'd fallen in love with years ago, and now was privileged to call my
husband. My man. But this morning, our first morning, I just wanted to
watch. And he liked me to watch, loved showing me every naked inch of that
prime, late-middle-aged body. We'd slept out here on the patio, too
exhausted from our first lovemaking as husbands to haul our spent asses
inside, falling asleep in a big muscled, sweaty tangle on the daybed by the
pool. I was glad we'd upgraded to the private pool suite for that reason
alone.

So I smiled at him as I watched, my cock instantly hard as his big, thick,
powerful muscles pumped, lazily stroking my big young dick as my man worked
out. For him, sure, but mostly for me. Not just to keep up with me - he
didn't have any problems with that whatsoever. But to maintain and enhance
the body I'd lusted over all these years, keeping it tight, hard, brawny,
thick, for me to lick and caress and suck on and rub against. To worship.

He was in the middle of his pushups when he looked over at me with that
sexy grin of his, and I could see that fat, long cock of his engorging as
he watched me watch him.

"You're making this awfully hard," he said.

"I can see that," I smirked, sitting up on the rumpled bed and spreading my
own ex-footballer thighs to show off to him. That got a growl, driving him
to work harder, faster, as I stroked for him.

He knocked out his set and came straight for me, wiping the sweat off his
face with one thick, furry forearm. I caught him just as he got to me, and
eyes locked on his, slowly licked the sweat up, lashing his big muscled
forearm with my tongue, giving him the worshipful gaze that always made him
moan for me. Which he did now, deep and lusty, swooping down to kiss me,
hot and deep and salty with his sweat, trading it back and forth between us
as I pulled him back down over me.

We never stopped kissing the whole time, not as he spread my big young legs
apart and entered me, not as he pumped eight inches of big, hard cock up
inside me, not as I squeezed his great big arms and wrapped my calves over
his hard, tight ass, not as we moaned and sweated and thrust and mated, not
as my own big cock sprayed our heaving, muscled stomachs with a fresh load
of thick young cum. Even through the afterglow, our lips stayed connected,
just kissing a little easier now, savoring each other, our love, our bond.

"I love you, husband," I murmured blissfully up at him as his cock slowly
softened and slipped out of me. The big smile on his face when I called him
that made my heart pound with love for him. This was what we had both
wanted, more than anything in the world, and when we'd confided it to each
other, my god, the lovemaking that followed was just like our first sweet,
passionate time in bed, only ten times as hot.

"I love you too, husband," he grinned back, pecking my lips softly as we
sank down together, intertwined. We looked at the rings on our fingers, our
sign of commitment to each other, to this epic, intense love we had.

"I'm still going to call you Dad, you know," I grinned at him. He growled
low in his throat, rubbing my cum-spattered stomach tenderly.

"You damn well better, Son. Just `cos were married, doesn't change the fact
that I made you, buddy."

It wasn't easy to laugh and kiss that deeply at the same time, but we
managed it. So maybe our marriage wasn't legal, but fuck it. We were
committed to each other. Loved each other this much. And hell, there was
something searingly hot about being so in love with your own father, you
got married to him. That idea had made me come since I was in my teens, and
finding out how hot it was to him too just bound us together. Besides, we
already had the same last name - the rest was just a formality, a piece of
paper. What we had between us transcended that and went way beyond. I
couldn't wait to explore it with him. My man. My husband. My Dad. Fuck yes.