Dean first saw his daddy’s dick when he was seven. And by saw it, he meant really saw it.
He was an unobservant child at the best of times, and he couldn’t recall ever looking up and seeing the long, limp thing hanging from his daddy’s hips. Dean assumed it must have been an “outie,” making the thing between his own legs an “innie.” He knew from his daddy’s movies that outies went into innies, but the sounds that came from the TV during those movies made him think that the whole process would hurt.
From then on, he fixated.
—
Dean was thirteen when he first dared to touch his daddy like that. He was too old to still shower with him, Sammy told him as much, but it wasn’t about Dean cracking his head open and needing to be watched. Now, they were bonding.
He reached out and touched Daddy, held what he now knew as a cock in his freckled hand, fascinated by it. It was almost like he knew that it was supposed to go in his mouth, his pussy, his ass, everywhere it would fit, and Dean would let him put it anywhere, no questions asked.
—
Dean was nineteen, and Daddy had put it everywhere. He stuck it in his virginally tight pussy and his not-so-virginal ass, courtesy of Sammy. He fucked Dean’s mouth, the running water blinding him, but that didn’t matter. Daddy held his hair in a tight grip and moved his head, or he moved his hips when he came so hard his legs trembled. He made his daddy happy, and that was what mattered most of all.
Daddy told him he reminded him of his mother in almost every way when he cleaned himself up, and Dean couldn’t think of anything kinder.