My son and I have an odd relationship which I cherish in a special way.

It started when Kevin was a youngster. My wife was out of town visiting

her sister for the week and Kevin and I stayed home. I thought it was a

little odd when Kevin walked into the bathroom while I issing. He

doesn’t usually do that.

“Gotta go bad,” he said, hauling out his cock.

We stood side by side at the toilet, gushing out our streams. I hadn’t seen

my son’s co quite a while and I retty impressed with the size of his

equipment. Like father, like son.

What bothered me was, that when Kevin finished pissing, he didn’t stuff

his cock bato his jeans right away. Instead, he played with it, stroking it

a little. It looked like his penis was getting hard, and I jammed my dick back

in my pants and got out of there in a hurry.

That night I was sleeping in my twihe strahing I had ever

experienced happeo me. I dreamed about my son.

In my dream, we were both naked. I was sitting on a straight chair in the

kit. Kevin was in my lap, fag me with his legs spread on each side

of mine. I was fug him.

I dreamed I was fug my son. My cock had never been so hard. I was

holding his flanks tightly between my hands and pressing his cute little ass

down onto my cock. His little hole was tight and g my rod with

rippling muscles, milking me off. I ressing deeply into his yielding ass

flesh and jabbing at his trigger. He was moaning and ing over and

over, “I love you, Daddy. I love you, Daddy.”

I skimmed my feverish hands all over his lithe, trim body, twisting and

squeezing his dime-sized nipples till they were thid red. Kevin jacked

furiously on his meat, squatting and fug himself on my tool like a bug

young colt.

It felt like I was getting ready to cum. The boy khat because he pulled

his butt off my cod got on his knees in front of me. I

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