Quillon's Covert (18 page)

Marty felt the rush of his dad’s pending release. As Martin’s dick pulsed between his thighs and spasmed, Marty’s heart filled with love so severe it overwhelmed him. The moment Martin pushed back his long skin and touched the head of his dick, Marty locked their mouths together and groaned as ropes of thick cum began to spew between them. But instead of his dad doing what Marty anticipated, which was leaving the cum to rest on their chests, he instead used his thick fingers to scoop it up.

The intense orgasm was still ripping through him when Martin lifted his fingers and pressed the spunk to Marty’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he husked. His throat momentarily constricted, but he pushed the fear aside and dropped his jaw. Martin’s fingers swiftly dipped inside, but they were gone just as quickly, only to be replaced by his father’s placid tongue.

He and his father had shared a lot over the years, made more memories than Marty could have ever hoped for, but tonight was different. It was more intimate and easy than any of the hundreds of other times before. Tonight marked the start of their annual escape from reality, but Marty couldn’t help but feel it also marked a milestone; they may only be able to express it two weeks out of the year, but tonight he felt like they’d become a couple. He sank heavily against Martin’s welcoming center and exhaled heavily.

“D?”

“Yep, right here, Buddy,” Martin whispered.

Martin / 47

Martin and his son’s bodies touched, back to chest, and he enjoyed the vibrations Marty’s chuckle sent running through his chest.

“You do know he’s right here? Like sitting three feet from us.”

He ignored Marty’s comment for a moment and nipped at his son’s Quillon nodule again.

“He hasn’t got a clue. We’re not doing anything, above water, that isn’t completely normal.”

He knew the
above water
comment wasn’t lost on Marty. M was indeed less than a yard from them. A big yellow truck ran across the dock’s boards, accompanied by a
chooga, chooga, chooga
sound as the youngest Quillon pushed it around.

“You know, you really should explain the difference between a truck and a train to the boy. He’ll be confused for life. And, speaking of confusing impressionable minds,” Martin tilted his head toward the portable CD player, “what
are
we listening to?”

Marty’s tone was a mix of mock exasperation and genuine amusement. “What we’re listening to is classic Johnny Cash. It’s called “Ring of Fire,” you uncultured pop fan. And it’s not the
above water
goings-on that I’m talking about, Old Man.”

Martin inched his slightly graying, furry chest up against his son’s muscled back. Water lapped at their torsos as they stood half submerged in the shallow end, next to the dock. Marty’s folded arms rested on the deck’s smooth planks cradling his chin lazily.

Martin rested his hands atop Marty’s thighs and his stiff dick smoothed along the crack of his son’s firm ass. M’s rising with the chickens that morning meant he and Marty hadn’t had any alone time since the night before. And twelve hours with Marty, sans an orgasm, had Martin hard and amorous.

“Does he always get up so early?”

“Hmm?” Marty asked, and then realized what Martin meant. “No, not generally. Must be the excitement of the cabin.”

“Yep. It excites me too.”

“Tuck! D! Ellow tuck!”

“Yes, it’s a great yellow truck.” Marty agreed, enunciating both the
Y
in yellow and the
R
in truck. “And trucks make a
vroom, vroom, vroom
sound, right?”

Martin pressed his lips into the back of Marty’s neck and smiled. “Well, technically, that’s the sound a car makes. But you get an A for effort.”

Marty laughed. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to raise…” He paused, remembering who he was speaking to. “What am I saying? Of course you do.”

He ran a palm over Marty’s taut abdomen. “Jeez, do you work out constantly? And, you’re doing an amazing job with M. He’s an awesome little guy.”

“I’ve gotta keep up with Andrew, ya know? I mean, you’ve seen him shirtless at the pool. The dude is seriously ripped. And the worst part of it is, it’s almost all natural. I, on the other hand, have to work my tail off to keep this four-pack.”

The abdominal muscles in question flexed under Martin’s fingers and he bit into his son’s shoulder. “You teasing me, Slider?”

Marty ignored his question but rubbed his ankle against Martin’s calf. “You doing okay, buddy?” Marty asked M. “Not too hot for you, is it?”

The late morning sun beat down on them, but Marty had diligently covered every inch of M’s chubby body with sunscreen, as Martin knew he would.

“Hot. Good.
Chooga, chooga, chooga!
”

Marty’s chest rumbled from a hearty laugh. “You let dad know if you get too warm, okay?”

Martin reached down, slid his hand along Marty’s equally hard cock, and stopped at the tip. Taking hold of the hanging foreskin, he pulled gently, rolled it between his fingers, and dipped inside to glide over the slick head. His son had stretched the skin so much over the years that it not only still covered his dick completely when hard, but it actually hung off the tip about two inches. Martin loved it. Loved playing with the soft skin, loved that his son had modified his cock to accommodate his own pleasure, and he loved knowing what he was doing at the moment was driving Marty crazy.

“Damn, it’s so long, Son.”

“Yeah, it’s stretched nicely,” Marty said, his voice taking on a slightly huskier tone as Martin continued playing. “I’m
really
happy with it.”

He continued tugging softly at the skin, then rolled it all the way down Marty’s rigid length, and slid it back up again. The motion elicited a soft
ahh
from his son.

“When it gets warmed up…you know, when the skin relaxes, it’s actually about an inch or so longer. Maybe even a little more.”

Marty cocked his head around slightly to catch Martin’s eye and asked, “Do you…I don’t know. Do you like it?”

He released the skin and reached down, taking hold of Marty’s hairless nuts, and rolled them around in his palm. “I’ll be thinking about it the rest of the year. I think it’s cool on several levels. I also love the way you’ve started keeping your crotch completely shaved.”

Marty rested his chin back on his arms. “That’s for Andrew.” He shrugged and then added, “but I’m glad you like it too. Personally I think it makes me look like M, but he says it emphasizes my size…makes me look even bigger. And, I never know where to stop it. Meaning, do I leave the treasure trail? Or do I take that off as well? ’Cause I’m sure as hell not doing my stomach and chest. It’s a pain in the ass to maintain as it is, so I’m not sure how much longer I’ll keep it up. I actually use this hair removal cream stuff…just did it again last night in the shower.”

Martin glanced over at M, who was piling the meager contents of Martin’s tackle box into the bed of his dump truck. “By the way, I’m glad you won the foreskin argument. I would’ve hated having a dead man for a son-in-law…would’ve made holiday dinners a little strange…having to keep him propped up at the table and all.”

Marty laughed. “Yeah, well. I thought I was gonna have to call you in for reinforcement on that one. He was pretty determined M was gonna
look like him
. I’m not so sure I’ll be as lucky with the next one.”

Martin’s hand continued to pull at Marty’s nuts, and he brought the other one up to rest on one of his son’s firm, furry pecs.

“Don’t e-v-e-n think about it, Dad,” Marty said in warning as Martin’s thumb grazed a nipple. “I’ll lose my mind; there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my composure if you start on those.”

Martin grinned and lightly scratched the nub with his nail. “Only a little, I promise.”

The tiny action caused a shudder to run through Marty’s body and he moaned.

M looked up. “D? Hurt?”

Marty lifted his chin off his folded arms and grabbed Martin’s hand, keeping a firm hold on it. “No, Buddy. Grandpa tickled me, is all.”

M grinned up at them. “Don’t ike tickels. But fun too.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I don’t like them either. But they do make me laugh,” he said to M. Then warned Martin. “I swear, if you scar my son, I’ll beat your ass, Old Man. And what gives anyway? You wouldn’t think of having sex with me until I was eighteen, and yet you’ll…”

Martin ignored the empty threat and whispered, “Let go of my hand, Firecracker, or I’ll have to breakout the paddle. And, again, if you keep your cool, M will be none the wiser.” Yeah, he had to admit, teasing the fuck out of Marty, knowing the man would have no choice but to remain compliant and nonchalant to protect M’s innocence, offered a whole other element of excitement. Marty would either have to play along—and not react to Martin’s ministrations—or force him to stop. And Martin knew Marty was just as hot and bothered as he was.

He slid his cock along Marty’s crack again and nudged it a bit deeper between his son’s legs. “Want you so bad, Jockey.”

Martin guessed it was somewhere around 11:00 a.m. and M probably wouldn’t go down for a nap for several more hours.
Fuck it
!

“Hey, M?”

“Gumpa?”

“Toss me that container…the one with the blue lid, would ya?”

M reached into the back of his overloaded dump truck, dug around, pulled out the Vaseline, and proudly presented it to Martin.

“Thanks, Jellybear.”

“Dad—” Marty started.

“Settle down, Sparky. I can do this and…keep the tyke in the dark,” Martin assured. Pressing his lips directly to Marty’s ear, he whispered, “I’m not gonna fuck you, I just wanna feel you wrapped around me.”

Several long moments passed where Martin was unsure of what his son’s decision would be. Finally, Marty offered a virtually imperceptible nod. However, his consent, no matter how unsure, was all Martin needed.

He popped the cap off the container, sunk three fingers in, dipped his hand under the water, and slid them across Marty’s smooth, hairless opening. He went back up, scooped another handful, and slicked his ardent dick. The thumb of his other hand flicked over his son’s nipple as he positioned himself against Marty’s hole.

Marty shivered as Martin began pushing into him.

“Open up, let your old man in,” he whispered.

Marty’s head fell forward again and rested on his arms. “Jesus, you’re such a fucking perv!” he hissed and arched his back. “I’m never gonna get that stuff off of me, you know. It’s like the most waterproof stuff on the pla—” His head rose and his neck tensed a bit, before lowering back to rest on his arms. “Ohmigod,” he huffed quietly.

Martin slid farther in, slowly, and finally felt his nuts push up against Marty’s ass. He resisted the urge to pull out and plunge back in, but instead simply stilled himself. Reaching over, he grabbed his beer from the dock and took a long swallow. “Nice!”

The clatter of crayons being dumped onto the deck was punctuated by several of them slipping through the dock’s planks and plopping into the water. M had opened up a coloring book, dumped the entire mega box of crayons onto the deck, and looked up at Marty in concern.

“That’s okay, Buddy. Well get ’em in a little bit. Is there another color you’d like to use? Green would be nice for the bunny’s eyes, wouldn’t it?” Marty asked, and then whispered to Martin, “He’s so cutely uncoordinated with his life jacket on.”

“You’re good with him, Marty. I mean, I watch you all the time with him, and you’re really good. You’ve grown into a great dad.”

Martin watched as the muscles in his son’s back relaxed. “You’re just gonna stay there. No, muh-muh-moving about, right?”

“Yep, no moving about. Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“Real nice,” he admitted.

“So…your comment before, about not being so lucky with your next kid’s skin? Does that mean?”

“Well, I have some pretty high standards to live up to in the father department, but thanks for the compliment, Old Man, it really means a lot. I love him so much, Dad. I just wanna do a good job, ya know? And, yeah, Andrew and I are pregnant. Well, technically it’s Cassandra, Andrew’s sister, who’s pregnant again. She’s four and a half months along now. It’s gonna be another boy.”

Martin wrapped his arms around Marty’s chest and pulled him in tight. “That’s great news. Your mom is gonna be over the moon!”

The movement pushed Martin’s cock in deeper, and he watched as Marty grabbed the jar of Vaseline to keep his hands busy.

Marty laughed. “She is, isn’t she? Sorry I didn’t say something sooner, but Cassandra had a few complications early on—nothing serious—but still, Andrew wanted to wait until she was in her second trimester before saying anything. He’s gonna be pissed I let the cat out of the bag, he’s pretty psyched about us telling you guys together.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be sure to act surprised, then.” Martin leaned in and nipped Marty’s ear again. “Wouldn’t want to give Andrew a reason to spank you, now would we, Chatterbox?”

As Martin grabbed his bottle, and tipped the last few swallows of beer into his mouth, Marty pushed back against him. “Ha! Now that would be something; Andrew is pretty…vanilla.” His son pulled forward a bit and then pushed back against Martin’s pelvis again. “Um, maybe M will lay down early.”

Martin grinned. “Ya think?”

Marty pushed back again and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s worth a shot.”

They both looked over at M, who’d abandoned the coloring book and was covering his dump truck with toddler graffiti. “Hey, Sport? It’s been a long morning, huh? What’s say we head up to the cabin and grab a few Oreos?”

“Plying the child with sweets. Yep, you’ve got the father thing down pat,” Martin said with a laugh.