That Saturday morning in late spring of the year 1953, James came down to the breakfast table about eight o'clock, wearing only what he'd worn to bed the night before, a tank-top and a pair of rather ratty-looking blue-flowered boxer shorts that failed to close in the gap at his manhood, which showed as a crescent moon of brown majesty within its azure closures. But hell, it was only his wife in the kitchen and she didn't care, just looked up and smiled at him. "Good morning, honey."
"Hi, baby." James yawned and looked at the mostly bare table. "Where's Tony?" He asked as he gave his wife a good-morning kiss on one distracted cheek; she was busy with breakfast.
"He's not in his room?" his wife Kate asked.
"Nope, I done looked there." James sprawled at the table. A big, brawny man with a craggy face, massive arms, a powerful chest, slim waist and beer-barrel legs, he strode rather than walked wherever he went, lord and master of all he surveyed because nobody fucks with a guy built like him, not if they valued the arrangement of their facial features, they didn't!
"Tony must have gone to play at the Thompsons, then." Kate said. "I saw an empty bowl of cereal on the counter, you know that boy gets busy every morning way too early."
"Yeah, but he usually comes in and gets me up a half hour before now." James said as she brought him the newspaper. Eggs, hash browns and bacon were sizzling on the stove, and bread in the toaster; Kate could bring all three to fruition at the same moment; she'd been a hell of a good short-order cook when James had found her.
"I was about to come wake you." Kate smiled. "Figured you'd like to sleep in for a change."
"You know I like having Tony come wake me on Saturdays."
"I know." Kate said. "Usually I no more than get out of bed in the morning and he's crawling in there with you. And the way you two carry on while I'm down here. I swear it's like having two boys instead of one, with the two of you giggling and moaning and bouncing around up there. Sometimes the bed shakes so much, the walls vibrate enough to shake pictures off the living room wall."
"We're just having some father-son time." James defended himself.
"I know." Kate smiled at her husband. "Just an all-American family, that's us." And she crowned her statement by placing the plate of eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast on the table, with a glass of cold orange juice and a cup of hot coffee. James dug in with gusto.
Tony returned just as James was finishing up his platter. "Hi, Dad!"
"Hey, sport!" James said as his wife picked up the plate. "Where were you?"
"Gregg needed some help with his homework." Tony explained. "He had to finish it or she wouldn't let him come play softball today, and we need him." Tony was wearing his Little League gear, soft off-white clothes, cleated shoes, a dark red cap turned backwards (Tony played catcher), and inside that was the sort of nine-year-old boy every father dreams of, with rosy cheeks, sparkling eyes, mischievous smile and clear smooth skin. The smile was turned unreservedly on his father.
"Well, as long as you had a good excuse then, for passing up our together time." James grinned.
"I have to do these dishes then call on Marge." Kate said. "You can keep an eye on Tony for the next fifteen minutes, can't you?"
"Sure, honey." James said, then to Tony, "So get comfortable while I read the newspaper."
"Okay, Dad." Tony said and promptly dived under the table.
James calmly put one leg up on the chair next to his and unfurled his newspaper. "You know what to do." he said to his son.
Tony fished his dad's cock out and stuffed it eagerly into his warm, small mouth. The lips moved expertly and smoothly over the huge glans and down the thick, turgid dong, Tony's saliva lubricating it all the way. James sighed softly in complete contentment. "That's my boy." he said softly.
Kate had filled the sink with soapy water and was putting in her dishes, to soak them before she washed them. She had a smooth routine for this, the dirtiest, most stubborn items went in first, then the lesser items atop them. She ended with glasses on the top, the ones she had to soak least and could work through them all in one circuit.
Tony was kneeling between his father's outspread legs, as he bobbed his boyish head back and forth, eager, small, liquid sounds of joy from the suction he was plying upon his daddy's love-muscle, his youthful muscles more than up to the task of moving his head and neck briskly over the pulsing, powerful prong.
As his wife worked on the dishes, James pretended to read the paper, the vision of the nonchalant husband starting his weekend off work, just enjoying his day, while underneath, his son was working his pud with a smooth, steady motion. Those lips knew just how to handle his father's dong to wring the most pleasure for the big stud who had fathered him. "An all-American family, that's us." James grunted as his cock sparked with building passion.
"We are the normal suburban family, aren't we?" Kate said as she scrubbed the plates. Next would be the skillet forming the bottom, while the soapy clean dishes were piled to one side of the single-basined sink, soaking a neat, clean dishtowel as they drained.
"We...sure...are." James grunted as his son milked at his pud. "Normal...as we...can be! Uh!" he gasped as a particularly sharp thrill raced up his spine from its birthplace at his cock and stabbed his brain.
"Working father, homemaker mother, baseball-playing son." Kate went on. "So wouldn't it be nice if we had a bit more money coming in?"
"I...guess that would...be good!" James struggled to keep his voice normal. He was going to come, and damned soon!
And to make things worse, Kate turned around and came over to the table. Only her angle and the top of the table kept her from seeing the actions of her son on her husband's cock. As it was, she saw nothing.
Into her husband's face, softened and slightly sweaty from the passion stirring his loins (for Tony had no clue of his mother's actions and continued to suckle his father's pud with an increasing speed as the huge cock heated up and pulsed with the need to spend its contents into the warm boyish mouth), Kate said, "I got a call from Lawrence yesterday. He really needs a cook to help him out for the summer."
"Your...old...boss?" James gasped. He squirmed in his lust, he needed to come, and come now, but with his wife watching his face like that? He couldn't, not now, not now!
Kate was beyond noticing, though. "Yes. So he asked if I could come back and work mornings for him. You could manage without me for a few months, couldn't you, it's only until school's back in session and his regular cook can come back."
"I...guess...that's okay!" James moaned. He was about to come whether she saw him doing it or not.
"Oh, thank you, honey!" Kate kissed James' cheek as he gasped for breath, for his climax was now assailing his senses. "You'll see, we can do this."
"I-I-I-I-I-I, KNOW-OOOOOOOOOOH!" James groaned as his cock exploded, a huge load spraying into Tony's clutching, suckling mouth under the table. He strangled back noises of passion that wrenched his throat painfully, and his lungs begged to take in and release more air, more, more, and the lack of oxygen heightened his ecstasy even more until his blood pounded in his ears and his eyes failed to register anything but a reddened blur.
Kate had turned away and was now busily rinsing the dishes under running water and stacking them to the other side on a second, clean dishtowel. "I'll go talk to Lawrence. The money will be nice, and you'll hardly notice."
James didn't answer, he was too busy clawing for breath, as his shaking hands barely held the newspaper in place. Tony was busily gulping down the spunk load that had flooded his mouth, he'd had to hold most of it in his mouth, his cheeks expanded like a chipmunk with nuts, and now he was swallowing that hot, salt-flavored, sticky, manly goo. Done, he lapped his father's now-spent cock to clean off his saliva and scarf up the last dregs of spunk it bore.
"I'll be working mornings only, Lawrence said, six mornings a week, from five o'clock until one o'clock." Kate went on. "That's eight hours of time and a half, and you know I'm good at it."
"You certainly are, honey." James managed to put some energy into those words, though it exhausted him.
"All you'll have to do is watch Tony every morning but Sunday." Kate went on. "Sort of like Saturday morning six days a week. You like Saturday mornings, don't you?"
"I sure do." James said with feeling.
"I like it, too." Tony said, coming out from under the table.
"Good, then just do it Monday through Saturday instead and we'll be fine. Well, I'm done here, I'll go see Lawrence right now, if you don't mind. Then to Marge's, I'll be home this afternoon some time."
"Have fun, honey." James said. Tony grinned and nodded in agreement.
The two waited until Kate was gone in the family car. "Well, son, looks like it's just you and me for mornings from now on."
"Yeah." Tony agreed.
"So let's get upstairs so I can fuck your ass like I'm supposed to on Saturday mornings." James tousled Tony's head, so that the cap went all askew. "Looks like you'll be late to softball today."
"Yeah." Tony agreed.
James followed his boy up the stairs, watching that slender ass wiggle, knowing he'd soon be ramming it, and he said, "Yep, just a normal, all-American family."