Dirty Daddies (1 of 2)

It’s hard, trying to figure out what to do, when you’re gay and want kids. Do you adopt? Do you mentor teens? Do you do the whole thing from start to finish with a surrogate? Martin and I had been together for almost a decade at this point, and we’d both talked about wanting kids in some form, but both of us were closing in on fifty, and watching my kid college graduation in my 70’s seemed strange, so we decided the best option for us would to be a foster home. For the first few years, everything went surprisingly smooth. You hear all of these horror stories in the media, but all these kids usually want is some stability. It helps that our two jobs in business keep us with plenty of money, so if a kid is stubborn, gifts and money can help grease the wheels of the relationship a bit, but then, along came Terry.

Placing Terry with us was a bit of a no-brainer I suppose. Two gay guys fostering a gay teen seemed like a good match, especially for a young guy who’d been through as much shit as he had. The caseworker couldn’t give out details, but it was pretty clear some strange abuse had happened in his past. He was really excited, when he found out Martin and I were married and together–he’d never thought he’d get a chance to be a part of a family with two real daddies. I thought it was cute, the way he put it, even if it was a bit childish–but once we’d been living with us for a while, I started to realize that there was something sinister under the surface.

Now, like I said, both Martin and I are in business, but while I work in the city, Martin freelances from home, running his own consulting company. That meant, Martin got to spend a whole lot more time with Terry than I did on a regular basis, and I began to notice that when I got home, Martin would look a bit…confused and out of sorts, but when I tried to ask him about it, he wouldn’t tell me anything. The one thing I did notice was that he was a whole lot more frisky all of a sudden, making out with me as soon as I got home, still in our suits, wanting to have sex every single night. Look, it happens, right? You get married, you settle down, the sex drops off…but he was fucking insatiable, and while I appreciated the attention, it seemed a bit odd–and then, one night while he was fucking me, I realized our door was cracked open, and there, masturbating, was Terry.

I tried to get Martin to stop, but he wouldn’t–and I couldn’t either. I realized I didn’t have any control over my own body, as Terry looked me in the eye, grinned, opened the door, and walked over to me. “Two daddies, just for me,” he said. “You want my dick daddy? My real daddy didn’t want my dick anymore, so he blew his brains out, but you like dick for sure, so I think you want it, right?”

I tried to tell him no, that this wasn’t right, but I felt my mouth get forced open, and Terry shoved his cock right down my throat. Martin sobbed behind me, still plowing my ass, and Terry sighed. “Two daddies, all my own. Two dirty daddies. We’re going to have so much fun, as a family, don’t you think?”