I wanted to fuck Nathan from the moment I saw my son, Seth, fucking him. And I didn't just want to make love to him like Seth was doing, but to really give him a good fucking. I happened upon them in Seth's bedroom. I heard the moaning from the hallway and couldn't resist checking it out. Seth had won the neighbors' new pool boy—a golden blond surfer type with heavenly cut features, brown-tanned as a berry, and unruly curly hair flipping up at his shoulders. This was fast work even for Seth. Nathan had only been working for the Carnadays for two days. I'd seen him too and masturbated to the thought of fucking him twice already. But I'd barely thought of a scheme to get him for myself, and here he was already, on his belly on my son's bed, moaning, and undulating to the fuck my son was giving him.
Seth had the blond's thighs closely encased between his knees and his chest pressing on the pool boy's shoulder blades. He was running the fingers of one hand in the blond's golden mane and kissing him in the hollow of his neck. They could have been resting in postcoital repose, except the hips of both of them were moving like a ship on a rolling sea. Seth was slow fucking Nathan in a rolling undulation and Nathan obviously was enjoying it. His hips were moving in consort with Seth's and he was sighing and moaning.
They were making love, and the coupling made for a beautiful tableau. It got my juices going. Not because I wanted to make love to him like Seth was doing, but because I wanted to enter Nathan like that and make his eyes bug out because I was longer and thicker than Seth, and I wanted to slam my cock up into him again and again and make him groan and grunt rather than sigh, and cry out alternately for me to stop and for me never to stop.
This was not Seth's way, though. He fucked for the intimacy of love. And all these young hunks who gravitated to him left him eventually. He always seemed to be bewildered by not being able to find something permanent—a young man worthy of him who was willing to stick with him. I knew, however, that it was because the young men who gravitated to him really wanted to be fucked to exhaustion. They wanted to be dominated and squeezed to the limit and plumbed to the depths.
That was where I was entering dangerous waters with my son. My son was a romantic; he fell in love with those he was screwing. I just wanted to get my rocks off with a delicious hunk—to fuck the living daylights out of him, to dominate and leave him exhausted and moaning. It was probably my son's bad fortune that he attracted just the sort of young man I wanted to bang the living daylights out of.
The last time I'd taken after someone my son was wooing was that young Israeli Ely on the Elat resort beach. He had been a waiter in our hotel and had his tongue out and panting for my son that first morning on the balcony café overlooking the Red Sea. As he was pouring coffee—almost putting mine in my lap because he couldn't take his eyes off Seth—I asked him if he ever was able to get off work to enjoy the beach himself, and when he said he did and wasn't working that afternoon, in fact, I asked him if he wanted to come out on the beach with Seth and me—that I had a cabana reserved. He didn't hesitate in saying yes.
I could tell that Seth was taken with the dark, hirsute Israeli immediately. But I didn't suggest the assignation for Seth. I knew I wanted to fuck the stuffing out of the Israeli hunk myself. I regret to admit that I often used Seth like this, as bait for my own needs and desires—almost regret, I should say.
And I never took more than the young men wanted. They enjoyed the fuck my son gave them, but I'd leave them with their tongues hanging out, their asses steaming, and a look of total satisfaction on their faces.
I watched from a stretch of sand in front of the cabana as the two played in the water, becoming increasingly frisky and intimate. I could tell the instance that Seth's dick first entered the Israeli, because the Israeli, who was one of those kind of men who always had to be in motion, suddenly went rigid and his eyes took on that "Oh fuck, yes!" expression I so often saw on the young men my Seth was fucking. They were out in the water almost up to their nipples. Seth was close behind Ely, and I could see below the surface of the water well enough to know that Seth's hands were palmed across Ely's lower belly. They were moving with the gently rolling surf, but I could tell that they also were in the rhythm of the fuck, Seth crouched a bit and controlling the rise and fall of Ely on his cock by pushing off from the sandy sea bottom with his heels. I retreated to just inside the cabana, pushed the waistband of my bikini trunks below my balls, and masturbated as I watched Seth and Ely fuck in the gentle surf.
There were few other bathers around, and those that were there seemed focused on enjoying their own time in the sea and on the beach. No one appeared to be paying any attention to the coupling except me. I sat there in the shadows just inside the entrance to the cabana and slowing jacked off to the sight of my son making love to a dark, curly haired Israeli beauty who seemed totally lost to the experience. All the time I was scheming my own taking of him.
The three of us lunched together on the hotel terrace, with Seth and Ely already comfortable with each other, happy and satisfied, and likely to become even closer the longer we stayed in Elat. This was my son's way. Other men were comfortable and immediately smitten with him and prone to dropping their current lives without giving it a second thought and turning themselves over into Seth's hands—willing to rise and fall on his cock forever in some sort of love-filled mystical world. That wasn't my way. My way was fuck 'em hard and leave 'em gasping for air. And few had objected to that.
After lunch, Seth and Ely left me sipping a brandy sour on the terrace and went back to the cabana, closing the entry flap behind them. A half hour later, Seth emerged and came up to the terrace and said he was going up to the room to shower and dress and would be meeting Ely in the hotel lobby—that Ely wanted to show him around the area on his motorbike. I could tell by Seth's contented look that not only had he fucked Ely again in the cabana but also that he was completely smitten with the Israeli.
I waited only long enough for my son to turn toward the door into the hotel and then rose and strode down the beach to the cabana. Ely was still stretched out on the day bed on his belly, his eyes closed and a huge smile on his face. He was naked, having just been loved well, I'm sure. His hole was still puckered and slack from where it had taken Seth's cock, and the small of his back was still splattered with gobs of my son's semen.
Already hard from the anticipation of what I was going to do, I stripped off my bikini, rolled one of the condoms that had been tucked below my waistband onto my cock, swung a leg over his pelvis, and thrust hard between his dark curly-hair covered bubble-butt cheeks, finding the slack and well-lubed hole opening to me immediately.
I had picked up the belt of my terry cloth hotel bathrobe before pinning Ely's belly to the day bed with a deep thrust of my cock, and when Ely's body flopped around from the surprise and pain of the assault, I grabbed for his wrists and got them bound to the railing at the head of the daybed. And then, crouched over his hips with my pelvis and leveraging my feet off the sand of the cabana interior, with my hands pressing down on his shoulder blades, I fucked Ely hard, deep, and brutally. He cried out and cursed and begged for relief at first, but he quickly subsided into groans and whimperings.
When he had quieted down to accepting the fuck, his hips rolling with the rhythm of my plowing and Ely sighing his enjoyment of my technique of rotating my pelvis as I dug in, I moved a hand below his belly and onto his cock. His hips were moving in perfect harmony with mine, and I squeezed his balls and cock and jacked him off, making sure that he had come before I did.
We held there, panting. He was still whimpering, though, when I pulled out of him, felt myself ready to rise again, and changed condoms. Then I turned him over, and ignoring his weak entreaties to leave him be, I straddled the narrow daybed with my thighs again, between his spread legs, and gave him another, even deeper, rapid-pistoning fuck. He flopped around under me until he had cum again and then he just lay there, collapsed, his tongue hanging out and a silly grin on his face while I piledrived to my own release.
He was exhausted and semicomatose when I was done this time. I just pulled my bikini trunks back on and turned and went up to the room and showered. Seth returned to the room while I was drying off, a sad expression on his face. He told me that Ely had not shown up in the hotel lobby as arranged, and, like a dutiful father, I clucked my condolences that perhaps Ely had flitted off to somewhere else, having gotten what he wanted from Seth. We never saw Ely again—and although Seth had not said anything to me about it at the time, I couldn't be sure that he didn't suspect some of his boyfriends just disappeared after I gave them a proper fucking. Seth would have to be a dope not to suspect some sort of pattern in play—and my son wasn't a dope.
