I stepped out onto the front porch, cradling my coffee in hand, and breathed in the refreshing scent of the morning rain.

Inside, I could hear the lively chatter of my wife's sister and her boyfriend James at the breakfast table. Surprisingly, I hadn't been summoned back inside to join them, despite the unsettling encounter with Michael in the kitchen earlier.

Settling into my favorite wicker chair, I carefully placed my cup on the table, savoring this as my sanctuary for contemplation. Managing a large, bustling family demands an immense amount of energy and can often leave me feeling utterly depleted. Yet, this is the life I've consciously chosen, and on the whole, I find contentment in it.

However, the incident with Michael invoked memories of my tumultuous childhood, marked by the ongoing conflicts between my parents.

In the nineties, my mother, with her drinking problem and bipolar disorder, exuded a commanding presence and was locked in perpetual strife with my father.

When I was five years old, she abruptly departed in the dead of night after meeting a fellow alcoholic at an AA meeting, leaving my father behind.

We shacked up with her new boyfriend several states away. At first in his mobile home, but then we "upgraded" and followed her boyfriend around from job to job in his camper.

We lived in that camper for a few years and needless to say, it was tight quarters and I felt like a burden.

Soon, her boyfriend and I became friends and started doing father-son-type things together; like learning how to fish that summer.

After my 16th birthday and years of dancing around the country and living off of my father's child support, I was dropped off at a Greyhound bus station where my dad picked me up. My father felt that he could raise me better and in a more “stable” environment.

We moved into a small apartment on the north side of Chicago. My father worked as a salesman for various shipping companies, but his real passion was women.

Almost routinely, he would meet various women at local clubs and spend the weekends with them. My father was what you would call a dominant, alpha male, and that's what women loved about him. However, being his son was a different story.

I would routinely get schooled on what it means to be a real man whenever something wasn't going my way. It was almost a test for him to ensure that I would grow up to be like him.

God knows I tried, but for some reason, this is just the way I was wired, and my father didn't like that. He enjoyed insulting me or putting me down in front of his dates.

He made it very clear to the women that he dated that he was in charge and that he was raising me right. I was expected to clean his apartment, do his laundry, do the dishes, and clean the bathrooms as part of my daily chores to learn self-reliance.

In reality, he just didn't want to do anything under the guise of earning my keep. This is where my beta male tendencies began to take shape.

One thing I did enjoy was his womanizing. I became an avid observer and big fan of his sexual prowess and he didn't mind showing it off.

On any given weekend, I could expect him to bedding one of his various girls and he wasn't shy about it at all. My father fuck would with the door open most late mornings or in the living room and nonchalantly yell for me to do some menial tasks while he was balls deep in some random whore.

Most weekdays after school and all weekends, I would sit in my room and listen to him screw for hours on end.

Nudity and sex are commonplace and openly discussed and openly conducted in that apartment. One day, I grew enough balls to go about my day in the apartment and around his nonsense. My father has his date from the night before, bent on the kitchen counter working on his cum.

I walked around them mid-coitus to get a snack from the pantry. The girl was a little startled at first. She probably didn't think there was anyone else in the apartment and thought it was weird that his nude teenage son was going about his day while they were having sex.

After a second or two, she realized that I wasn't a threat and finished pleasuring my father. Little did I know that my life growing up would very much mirror my current situation.

On the flip side, I was never bored on a Saturday night. I had a few friends and little to no girlfriends at this time in my life.

My father and his ladies would always provide a sexual outlet and quality entertainment for his teenager. Needless to say, I masturbated constantly. It got so bad that I was rubbing myself raw and had to borrow lubrication from my father's nightstand just to keep up. It was pretty much how I experienced sexual intercourse.

Then I discovered cuckold porn and that's when it all clicked for me. As a sixteen-year-old, I collected probably the world's largest collection of hotwife, interracial, and cuckold porn the world had ever seen.

I began to know and seek out the different actresses, production companies, and websites where I can gather as much free porn as my hairy little palms could handle.

Seeing as my father and I had a gentleman's agreement, I was not modest or shy about my masturbatory habits and no door in the apartment had a lock, so privacy was a luxury and always in short supply.

One evening, I was sitting in the living room on the computer; which I do a lot these days; when I was summoned by my father to his bedroom.

Knowing he was with a girl, I expected to see the typical scene. Him lying next to his bitch, post-colitis requesting a drink or something from the kitchen which I had to fetch.

As I approached the master bedroom, I could still hear them fucking. I turned to the open door and could see her riding my father. Her tattooed back of faded angel wings, flexing back muscles and throwing her weight back and forth grinding her clit into my dad's pelvis.

I watched for a second or two. After a beat, he noticed me standing there and let go of her ribcage to beckon me over.

I reluctantly walked into the room; the girl not even breaking stride kept pace. "She wants to get her ass fucked and choked out in front of you," my dad said. She turned to me with a side smirk.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she winked her winked anus at me, saying hello.

The reality is, I had nothing better to do and this type of activity was in my newly discovered wheelhouse cuckold debauchery. So, I agreed.

My father lifted this woman off of his cock and tossed her to the side as he moved into position.

She scrambled on all fours to face me and back up onto him.

I knelt on the floor, incredulous, waiting for what would happen next.

Suddenly, this woman locked eyes with me. At first, she was smiling, but the smile quickly faded when my father pushed himself into her rectum.

Her jaw dropped. She struggled to maintain eye contact with me as her lover's thick mushroom head was dilating her sphincter.

A low guttural growl came from this woman that I didn't believe could come from a human being. Her involuntary grunts evolved into panting as she struggled to swallow the spit that began to form in the corners of her mouth.

My father began pounding into the woman's anus with no remorse. I could see the muscles in her flexed thighs vibrating. Yet, she kept her eyes locked onto my eyes and into my soul.

I started to get an erection and I could feel my pre-cum wetting my pants.

I could tell her body was getting close to orgasm and he could too. He pushed her forward and flat on her belly. His cock slid deeper into her intestines and she howled, bucking her hips in an attempt to ease the deep penetration.

No such luck, my father was in complete control and I was taking notes. His full weight was on top of her and her lungs were struggling to maintain her air.

Slowly, with his right hand, he reached around the woman's neck. He put her throat into the bend of his elbow, the veins in his biceps were bulging. The other arm rested on the back of her neck. This young woman’s head was locked and she was going nowhere.

His thrusts amounted to three-second interval pounding. He was slamming into her deeply then slowly withdrawing, taking great care not to completely pull out. Then he began to squeeze.

At first, the woman panicked. Soon she realized she could breathe and settled back being deeply penetrated. She wasn't being strangled, but a strange thing began to happen.

Her eye contact with me wavered and the life force in her eyes began to slowly drain away. Her eyes were open, but dead eyes took the place of living ones.

It was clear this is what losing consciousness looks like, but it's also what death might look like too. Her tiny hands gave my father's massive forearms a slight squeeze and his vascular muscles relaxed.

Her life force returned to her face and her eyes locked on me tightly as every muscle in her body flexed and vibrated as she rode her orgasmic contractions.

This woman's naked body convulsed under the massive weight of my father for what seemed like forever. I sat on the floor, watching this woman repeat this process over and over until she could go no more.

She turned up to him and said something I couldn't discern. He pushed her head into the mattress and started pounding her again. This time, really hard.

After a minute, he cupped the back of her skull with his huge hand and held her face into the pillow. Every muscle in my father’s bodybuilder frame contracted as he threw his head back in building ecstasy. 

He ejaculated hard into her rectum. Her muffled screams were overpowered by my father's rhythmic growls as he filled her bowels with rope after rope of old man sperm.

He released her and she gasped for air, careful not to move her buttocks while he was filling her.

I got up and left the two sweaty bodies, still connected, still pumping and still heaving as I closed the bedroom door. These moments I have learned to leave for the lover’s bliss.

Later we ordered pizza and watched a movie without a word spoken about it again. Just another Saturday night.

When I did get a girlfriend, I would go on dates with her and enjoy myself. But I was always watching the clock knowing that my father would have one of his girls over and I had to get her out of the apartment before he arrived.

My father would always flirt and show his dominance around the girls that I was dating.

Whenever I had a guest over, he would walk around without a shirt on, showing off his muscles and tattoos and making eyes and small talk with every one of my dates. My dating relationships didn't last very long.

About a year before I moved out, I dated my first long-term girlfriend, Kasidy. She was your typical sixteen-year-old, blonde bombshell with long braided hair, tan and tight body, with captivating deep green eyes.

During one Autumn evening, I didn't think anyone was home and was on my way to a long-awaited and well-earned orgasm with my girlfriend. Kasidy was passing her third and we had no shame. My father was probably listening in the living room for a while and timed his entry perfectly.

"Hey Bubba, where's my car keys?" He was drunk and stood there with a blank stare, watching over two teenage naked bodies connected at the waist.

Normally, most teenagers would startle and hop off the second they were caught. But I knew this day would come and I kept going out of pure spite.

I stifled Kasidy's knee-jerk reaction to push me off. She knew what my father was all about and quickly picked up what I was putting down. Fuck him.

I started again slamming my hips into this girl. She countered by grinding her hips into me and flexing her French-manicured toes to the sky.

If a show is what the old man wants, that's what he is going to get.

He kept asking me where his car keys were and I kept pounding this hot teenage girl into the mattress. I think she was getting off on this as I felt her insides tighten around my cock.

He walked into my room and sat down on my desk chair. He stopped talking and just sat there, watching us with his bloodshot eyes and the smell of booze seeping from his pores.

I thought to myself, if the old man so much as leaned towards us looking for a touch, I was going to knock him to the floor. But he didn't move.

He just sat there, gazing his eyes over our nude adolescent bodies, glazed with sweat and the scent of male teenage body odor and vaginal secretions. The smell of sex and candy.

As our orgasms approached, we forgot he was there. For the first time in my life, I felt superior to my father. My girl and I came at the same time.

As we rolled through the last few contractions of our very hard orgasms, my father stood up; car keys in hand, and said, "Nice work Bubba," and walked out of the room.

After that, he and I held back nothing between each other and I felt that our relationship became stronger.

It wasn't all bad, he did buy me my first car and gave me a lot of lessons and advice about life, love, and women.

Even though he had to give away all of his things every five years between four marriages and four divorces, my old man had a lot of love to give and he never shied away from being true to himself.