Dad howled in agony as Mr. Anderson completed the Boston crab. I wincedāboth at my Dadās pain, and at the thought of what Iād have to do if he gave up. āKeep fighting, Dad!!!ā I cried. āGet out of there!ā
Dadās eyes were squeezed shut from pain; Mr. Anderson had him bent backwards almost in two! But then he opened them and his eyes locked with mine. I pleaded with him silently not to give up!
And he didnāt.
Dad began to kick his legs as hard as he could, back and forth, back and forth, and Mr. Anderson started to stagger. His grip on Dadās legs became less solid, and finally, he lost Dadās right leg altogether!
With his leg free, Dad kept kicking. His heel hit Mr. Anderson right in the small of the back, and Mr. Anderson let go of Dadās other leg and sank to his hands and knees, holding his lower back and gasping in pain.
Dad got slowly to his feetā¦he wasnāt feeling too good, either. Anderson and I held our breath; we both knew, somehow, that the fight was going to be over one way or the other soon.
Dad turned around and saw Mr. Anderson pulling himself up onto his feet again. As soon as Mr. Anderson had turned to face him, Dad extended his left hand. Not to end the fight. Oh, no. Dadās hand was up, and his fingers wiggling. āMercy?ā he challenged.
Mr. Anderson laughed, an ugly laugh that made me nervous, but didnāt seem to faze Dad at all. āYouāre on,ā he snarled.
Mr. Anderson took Dadās left hand in his right, lacing his fingers alongside Dadās. He slowly brought his own left hand up, his fingers spread, and Dad took it with his right.
And it was on!
Dad and Mr. Anderson came together, their meaty chests slapping against each other, their foreheads pressing against each other. Muscles were bulging in their arms and shoulders and backā¦and there was a lot more bulging in my singlet. My dick was screaming for release, and even if Dad lost and I had toā¦letās not even talk about thatā¦I was going to have to do something about it.
The sweat was pouring down their bodies, making their muscles stand out even more. I glanced over at Anderson; he was just as hard as I was, and a weird thought crossed my mind that it was too bad we hated each other so much.
āCome on, Dad!ā I shoutedābut he was far too absorbed in the fight to even acknowledge me...
rassler (4)
6/07/2014 2:19 PMGreat story but still hoping for some dad vs son action too... Is there a chance?
JiminQueens2 (51)
6/10/2014 4:48 PM(In reply to this)
Not in this story, but maybe in the future!
rassler (4)
6/11/2014 2:21 PM(In reply to this)
Great, your writing is good and exciting. I'm sure you can come up with a hot dad vs son erotic match like this one. Near future, I hope...
JiminQueens2 (51)
6/04/2014 5:44 PMDad howled in agony as Mr. Anderson completed the Boston crab. I wincedāboth at my Dadās pain, and at the thought of what Iād have to do if he gave up. āKeep fighting, Dad!!!ā I cried. āGet out of there!ā
Dadās eyes were squeezed shut from pain; Mr. Anderson had him bent backwards almost in two! But then he opened them and his eyes locked with mine. I pleaded with him silently not to give up!
And he didnāt.
Dad began to kick his legs as hard as he could, back and forth, back and forth, and Mr. Anderson started to stagger. His grip on Dadās legs became less solid, and finally, he lost Dadās right leg altogether!
With his leg free, Dad kept kicking. His heel hit Mr. Anderson right in the small of the back, and Mr. Anderson let go of Dadās other leg and sank to his hands and knees, holding his lower back and gasping in pain.
Dad got slowly to his feetā¦he wasnāt feeling too good, either. Anderson and I held our breath; we both knew, somehow, that the fight was going to be over one way or the other soon.
Dad turned around and saw Mr. Anderson pulling himself up onto his feet again. As soon as Mr. Anderson had turned to face him, Dad extended his left hand. Not to end the fight. Oh, no. Dadās hand was up, and his fingers wiggling. āMercy?ā he challenged.
Mr. Anderson laughed, an ugly laugh that made me nervous, but didnāt seem to faze Dad at all. āYouāre on,ā he snarled.
Mr. Anderson took Dadās left hand in his right, lacing his fingers alongside Dadās. He slowly brought his own left hand up, his fingers spread, and Dad took it with his right.
And it was on!
Dad and Mr. Anderson came together, their meaty chests slapping against each other, their foreheads pressing against each other. Muscles were bulging in their arms and shoulders and backā¦and there was a lot more bulging in my singlet. My dick was screaming for release, and even if Dad lost and I had toā¦letās not even talk about thatā¦I was going to have to do something about it.
The sweat was pouring down their bodies, making their muscles stand out even more. I glanced over at Anderson; he was just as hard as I was, and a weird thought crossed my mind that it was too bad we hated each other so much.
āCome on, Dad!ā I shoutedābut he was far too absorbed in the fight to even acknowledge me...