Quillon's Covert by Joseph Lance Tonlet, Louis Stevens Page B

foreskin back down Marty’s dick until he reached the base. His dad’s fingers were deft, agile, inspired, and pursued their intention with staggering confidence. Martin’s fingers, at the base of Marty’s cock stilled, keeping his skin peeled completely back. The equally clever fingers of his father’s other hand applied gentle pressure to Marty’s opening that threatened to push through the unexplored passage.
    Marty’s heart raced and he felt slightly lightheaded.
    “You knuh-knuh-know,” he panted, “For a straight guy, you shuh-shuh-sure know…” His concentration broke when one of his dad’s strong fingers nudged just inside before slipping back out.
    Martin grinned. “I know what, Son?”
    His body shivered as Martin’s finger threatened to push back in, but instead made a slow, smooth circle around his opening.
    “You, sure knuh-knuh-know what you’re doing,” he finally managed to force out.
    “Yeah? Well, I may have watched a few videos.”
    Jesus, the thought of his dad watching gay porn so he’d know what to do when they had sex was almost too hot for Marty to imagine. Particularly in his current state.
    “D?” he whispered against his father’s lips.
    Martin’s eyes twinkled. “Yep, still right here, Buddy.”
    Marty had been prepared to ask a question, but when his father grazed his lips along Marty’s cheek, over his jaw, and nipped at his earlobe before following the same path back, Marty had lost all thought.
    Martin’s warm breath brushed across Marty’s face. “I’m curious how do you know which you prefer, if you’ve never dipped your dick into a hot opening before?”
    The crass, sexy words—words he’d never used with Marty before—had Marty’s knees shaking. Fuck, his dad was talking dirty to him, and he liked it. Marty closed his eyes as pleasure swarmed his body.
    Just like that, the pressure on his ass was gone, and his dick felt nothing but cool air as it pulsed against his stomach in arousal. When he opened his eyes, Martin was out the door and already half way down to the lake.
    “Bastard,” Marty hissed as he took off after him.
     

     
    Nearly a full week of their short two-week break was already gone, but Marty was having the time of his life. Sex only got better with age, his dad assured him as they relaxed on the deck with two rods between their legs, reeling in their dinner. The sexual tension between them was palpable, like it always was now, even though what Marty really hoped for—to feel his dad inside him—hadn’t happened yet.
    Marty wasn’t concerned, though. He had no doubt that by the end of this trip he would no longer be a virgin. That knowledge excited him as much as it tied his stomach and tongue into knots. It would happen. It was going to happen. They both knew it would. But he felt no need to rush it. When it did happen, it would be completely perfect.
    Yeah. Right. It would probably end up being awkward as hell, and sweaty, and hot, and embarrassing. Real life very rarely followed a script. But no matter how it ended up, he couldn’t wait.
     

     
    That evening Martin sat flipping the pages of his book. He was engrossed in some Ty Cobb biography paperback, and it grated on Marty’s nerves. He liked baseball just as much as the next guy, but right now, Marty wanted sex.
    The fact that it was nearly a hundred degrees outside, and not much cooler inside, and that they were both naked and spread out on the carpet, didn’t help Marty’s libido at all. His dad lay on his back, holding the book above him as he read, and as Marty sat across from him, his back resting on the side of the soft sofa, he found his gaze cemented to Martin’s thick, soft cock.
    “It’s my vacation too,” Martin said without taking his eyes off the page. “I also get to relax how I want.”
    Marty blew a breath through his teeth. He grabbed his beer, took a swallow, and grimaced. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “You know—” Martin peeked at Marty from