My Best Friend's Dad Claims My Tight Ass

I never meant for any of it to happen. At least, that’s what I told myself every time I stroked my cock to the thought of him.

It was the second week of summer break. Jake was backpacking through Europe with his girlfriend, and his stepdad, Marcus, was supposed to be on a three-week job site in Denver. The house was mine. I’d been house-sitting since finals ended, watering the plants, feeding the dog, and—most dangerously—jerking off in every room like it was my own personal porn set.

That afternoon the living room was flooded with warm sunlight. I had my laptop open on the coffee table, shorts shoved down around my ankles, legs spread wide. On the screen, a thick, salt-and-pepper daddy had a younger guy bent over a workbench, feeding every inch of a heavy cock into a smooth, greedy hole while growling, “That’s it, boy. Take what’s yours.” My fist flew up and down my own dick, slick with spit, balls drawn tight. I was so close I could taste it.

The front door clicked open.

I froze mid-stroke, heart slamming against my ribs. Heavy boots crossed the hardwood. Then that voice—low, rough, velvet over gravel—filled the room.

“Well, fuck me.”

Marcus stood in the doorway still holding his duffel, keys dangling from one thick finger. At forty-eight he looked carved from stone: six-four, wide shoulders, forearms veined and dusted with dark hair, a tight black t-shirt stretched across a chest that had clearly seen years of heavy lifting. His steel-gray eyes locked on my exposed cock, then drifted to the laptop where the older man was now balls-deep and snarling.

I should have yanked my shorts up. Instead I just sat there, flushed and panting, cock twitching in my frozen fist.

Marcus dropped the bag. The door shut behind him with a soft, final click.

“Been watching that kind of thing long, Alex?” His voice had dropped even lower. The sound of it licked straight down my spine.

I swallowed hard. “Since… since I was nineteen.”

He took one slow step closer. Then another. The bulge in his worn jeans was already thickening, unmistakable.

“And how long have you been watching me like that?”

The confession tore out of me before I could stop it. “Over a year. Every time I come over. Every time you walk around without a shirt after working outside. Every time you call me ‘kid’ in that voice.”

Marcus stopped two feet away. I could smell him—sawdust, clean sweat, and something darker, masculine, addictive. His eyes burned.

“I’ve wanted to bend you over since the day you turned twenty-one and I caught you staring at my ass while I was fixing the deck. Been jerking my cock raw thinking about stretching that pretty little virgin hole. You gonna let me claim it, boy?”

My breath hitched so hard it sounded like a sob. “Yes. God, yes. Please, Marcus.”

He moved like a predator then, big hands cupping my face, tilting my head back. His mouth crashed down on mine—hot, demanding, tasting like coffee and pure sin. His tongue pushed inside and I moaned into him, hands fisting his shirt. He kissed like he already owned me. Deep, filthy strokes that left me shaking.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were wet. “Stand up. Lose the shorts.”

I scrambled to obey. My cock sprang free, flushed dark and leaking. Marcus’s gaze raked over me like he was memorizing every inch. Then he sank to his knees—Marcus on his knees—and hooked his hands behind my thighs, spreading me open.

“Turn around. Hands on the couch.”

I bent forward, ass out, trembling. He groaned at the sight.

“Fuck, look at that smooth little hole. So pink and tight. Been dreaming about eating this ass for months.” He leaned in and dragged the flat of his hot tongue straight up my crack.

The wet heat made my knees buckle. I cried out, gripping the back of the couch as he licked me again, slower, filthier. His beard scraped my sensitive skin while his tongue circled my rim, teasing, pressing, then spearing inside.

“Marcus—fuck—oh my god,” I babbled.

He pulled back just enough to speak, voice muffled against my hole. “Tastes even better than I imagined. Sweet little virgin boy. Gonna get this hole sloppy and open for my cock. You want that?”

“Yes! Please, eat my ass. I’ve never—nobody’s ever—”

“Good,” he growled, and dove back in. He ate me like a starving man—long, hungry licks, sucking on my rim, fucking me with his tongue until I was pushing back onto his face, whimpering, begging. My cock dripped onto the leather couch in long strings. I was so hard it hurt.

When I couldn’t take it anymore I gasped, “Marcus, please. I need you to fuck me. I need your cock in my ass right now.”

He rose behind me, towering, and I heard the metallic clink of his belt. The heavy sound of his jeans hitting the floor. Then the wet squelch of him slicking himself up with the lube I’d left on the table like a guilty prayer.

“Bend over further. Arch that back.”

I did. The fat, blunt head of his cock—God, it felt huge—pressed against my spit-slick hole. He rubbed it up and down, teasing.

“Tell me again,” he rumbled.

“I want you to claim my tight virgin ass. Please, Marcus. Fuck me raw.”

He pushed.

The first inch burned. I moaned loud and long as he worked the thick head past my resisting ring. He went slow, so fucking slow, murmuring praise the whole time.

“That’s it, baby. Relax for me. Let me in. Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight. Good boy. Such a good fucking boy taking my cock.”

Inch by inch he sank into me until his heavy balls rested against mine and his hips were flush with my ass. I was stuffed full, panting, sweat rolling down my spine. The stretch was obscene, perfect.

“Move,” I begged. “Please move.”

He pulled out halfway and slid back in, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that made my eyes roll back. Every thrust dragged over my prostate and I keened like a whore.

After a few minutes he pulled out completely, leaving me empty and clenching.

“On the couch. Reverse cowgirl. I want you to watch my cock wreck you.”

I straddled him backward, knees on the cushions. He held his massive, veined shaft upright—easily nine inches and thick as a beer can. I lowered myself onto it, gasping as it split me open again. The sight of that fat cock disappearing into my stretched pink hole was the filthiest thing I’d ever seen. I sank down until I sat fully in his lap, impaled.

“Ride it,” he ordered, hands gripping my hips.

I did. I braced my hands on his thick thighs and bounced, watching every glistening inch slide in and out of my body. The wet sounds were lewd. My cock slapped against my stomach with every drop. Marcus reached around and jerked me in time with my movements, growling filthy encouragement.

“Look at that greedy hole swallowing me. That’s my ass now, Alex. Mine. Gonna ruin it for anybody else.”

I rode him until my thighs burned. Then he flipped us again, putting me face-down on the couch in a prone-bone position. His heavy body covered mine completely. One big hand pinned my wrists above my head. The other cracked across my ass—sharp, stinging slaps that made me clench around him.

“Say it,” he growled against my ear, pounding me harder. “Tell me whose ass this is.”

“Yours,” I sobbed into the cushion. “It’s your ass, Marcus. Claim it. Breed it. Please—fuck—I’m gonna cum—”

He slammed into me with punishing strokes, hips slapping loudly against my reddened cheeks. “That’s right. This tight college boy hole belongs to your best friend’s dad. Gonna fill you up every time Jake’s gone. You’re gonna walk around with my cum leaking out of you all summer.”

The words shoved me over the edge. I came untouched, screaming into the leather, cock pulsing hard streams beneath me. My hole spasmed wildly around him.

Marcus roared. He drove in to the hilt and froze, buried as deep as possible. I felt the hot, heavy jets of his load flooding my guts—pulse after pulse until it was too much. When he finally pulled out, a thick river of cum poured from my wrecked, gaping hole and ran down my balls.

For a long moment the only sound was our ragged breathing.

Then Marcus’s big hands were gentle. He gathered me up like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the big walk-in shower in the master bathroom. Hot water cascaded over us. He soaped me carefully, reverently, cleaning between my cheeks with soft fingers while I trembled against his chest.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured, kissing my temple. “I’ve got you.”

I looked up at him through the steam, heart still racing, body deliciously sore. “This is only the beginning, isn’t it?”

Marcus smiled—slow, dark, and full of filthy promise. He leaned down, lips brushing my ear as the water poured over us both.

“Every single time Jake leaves this house this summer, that tight ass is getting bred by his stepdad. But here’s the part you don’t know yet…” He nipped my earlobe, voice dropping to a possessive growl.

“Jake’s the one who begged me to finally take you.”