Caught in the Act by My Boy

**Caught in the Act** The lock clicked open too fast. I barely had time to react—my hand still wrapped around my cock, stroking hard, the laptop screen still glowing with the twisted fantasy I’d been fucking into. The door swung wide, and there he was: Jake, my 18-year-old son, all lean muscle and that cocky smirk he’d inherited from his mother. He didn’t look away. “Damn, Dad.” His voice dripped with amusement as his eyes raked over me—my fist tight around my shaft, the pulse of pre-cum slicking my grip. “Knew you were pent up, but Jesus.” Heat flooded my face, but my hand didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t. Not with the way his gaze pinned me, dark and knowing. “Shut the door,” I growled. His grin sharpened. He stepped inside instead, toeing it closed behind him. “Nah. Think I like the view.” His fingers hooked into his waistband, thumbs teasing the edge. “Bet you do too.” I swallowed hard. Fuck. This wasn’t happening. But my dick throbbed like it had other plans.

Jake stalked closer, his fingers lazily dragging his sweats down just enough to show the thick outline of his cock pressing against his boxers. My mouth watered despite myself, my grip tightening as I watched him. "Keep going," he murmured, eyes locked on my hand working my shaft. "Show me how bad you need it." A rough groan tore from my throat as I obeyed, thumb smearing the wetness leaking from my tip. His smirk deepened, and he pulled his cock free—thick, flushed, already hard just from watching me. "Fuck, Dad." He stroked himself slowly, his other hand gripping the back of my chair, leaning in close. "All this time hiding in your room... you could've just asked." The air turned thick with the sounds of slick skin and ragged breaths. My hips jerked, fucking up into my fist, my eyes glued to the way his precum beaded at his slit. "That's it," he whispered. "Now let me see you finish."

The words punched through me like a command I couldn’t ignore. My strokes turned desperate, my cock swelling impossibly harder under his gaze. Jake didn’t touch me, just watched with heavy-lidded intensity, his own hand moving in slow, deliberate tugs. “Fucking filthy,” he breathed, leaning in closer. His free hand gripped my thigh, nails digging in just enough to make me hiss. “You love this, don’t you? Letting me see you like this.” I couldn’t answer—couldn’t think. My balls drew up tight, heat coiling low in my gut. His thumb swiped over his own leaking tip, then reached out to drag wetness across my lips. The taste of him—salt and musk—sent me hurtling over the edge. I came with a choked groan, stripes of white painting my stomach, my thighs, my still-moving fist. Jake’s grip tightened on my leg. “Good,” he murmured. “Now clean it up.” His cock nudged my lips, hot and insistent. “And get to work.”

My tongue flicked over his tip before taking him deep, the weight of him pressing against the back of my throat. His groan vibrated through me as I hollowed my cheeks, dragging my lips up his shaft before swallowing him down again. His fingers tangled in my hair, guiding the pace—not rough, but firm, controlling. "Look at you," he muttered, hips rolling into my mouth. "Sucking my cock like it's all you were made for." I moaned around him, the vibrations pulling a hiss from his teeth. Precum slicked my tongue, bitter and thick, as his grip tightened. I could feel his thighs tensing, his rhythm turning uneven. "Gonna fuck your throat," he warned, voice rough. "Take it." He pushed deeper, my throat opening for him, and I braced my hands on his hips—not to stop him, just to hold on as he started thrusting in hard, shallow strokes. My vision blurred with the stretch, spit dripping down my chin. His breathing shattered above me. "Fuck—fuck, just like that—" He shoved in one last time and held, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself down my throat. I swallowed every drop, not letting go until he finally pulled back, slick and spent. Jake's thumb swiped across my bottom lip, collecting what spilled. "Good boy," he murmured. "Now get on the bed."

My knees hit the mattress, still shaky from swallowing him down. Jake prowled after me, his fingers tracing the mess of cum drying on my stomach before gripping my hip and flipping me onto all fours. The sharp smack of his palm against my ass made me gasp—hot, stinging, just this side of too much. "Arch," he ordered, nudging my legs wider with his knee. I obeyed, pressing my chest into the sheets as his blunt fingers circled my hole, still slick with spit. He pushed in without warning, one thick digit working me open while his other hand pinned the small of my back down. "Fuck, you're tight." His breath was ragged against my spine as he added a second finger, curling them just right to drag a ragged moan from my throat. "That’s it—take it." I rocked back against his hand, desperate for more, but he pulled away with a low chuckle. The tear of a condom wrapper filled the silence before the blunt pressure of his cock replaced his fingers. He pressed in slow, letting me feel every inch stretch me open, my body fighting to adjust. "Breathe," he growled, gripping my hips. Then he snapped forward, sheathing himself completely. The groan ripped out of me, raw and unfiltered, as he set a brutal pace—no warm-up, no mercy. Each thrust jolted me forward, my cock swinging heavy beneath me, already hard again. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back. "Tell me whose ass this is." "Yours," I choked out, the words punched out of me with every drive of his hips. "Fuck—*yours*—" His teeth sank into my shoulder as he came, his rhythm stuttering into deep, grinding rolls. I spilled untouched onto the sheets, clenching around him until he swore and pulled out. Jake collapsed beside me, dragging me against his chest. His palm smeared our mess between us. "Next time," he murmured, "I'm not going easy on you."