tofi's trail

Liha lays across his bed, music blaring as he sketches away on a picture. Honao stands in the partially open doorway, watching his son work, the way his shoulders shift and his arm moves with each flick of the wrist. The young man is bent over the sketchpad, his feet raised behind him in the air and his back exposed. He is only wearing a simple tank top that has ridden up a little, and very short cropped jeans that squeezes his round ass tightly. Liha’s hair is pulled into a high ponytail at the back of his head, and with his long, gangly build he can almost be considered feminine in appearance. Definitely androgynous, at the very least. Maybe his shoulders are slightly too broad. But he looks just like his deceased mother did at the same age, back in their early twenties, particularly with the freckles on his nose and ankles and the auburn locks that curls at the end.

Honao has felt himself drawn to his son for quite a while, but with his second wife to distract him Honao has managed to keep his gaze from straying most of the time. However, with her taking the other kids to her parents for a few weeks, the timing coinciding with Liha’s summer holiday and visit from university, things have gotten far more difficult for Honao. And with Liha in such a revealing outfit, it is becoming increasingly difficult to resist his urges.

Honao watches as Liha reaches a hand to scratch his ass, and Honao feels the urge to help. He pushes the door open a little more, without his son knowing he is being watched. Honao sees Liha use the same hand to draw his fingers through his ponytail, and sees the hair tips brush the back of his son's neck. He wants to--

--pull it-----

Honao’s hand is on Lihas hair, he realises as his son startles. Liha snaps his head around, his soft brown eyes wide with shock. "Dad? What the hell?" Honao pulls, and without even making the decision, he lets go of his restraint. He presses his lips to his son's strained neck, kissing the skin.

Liha’s skin is soft and warm beneath Honao’s lips. Liha struggles, one of his hands dropping his graphite pen to move to Honao’s hand, but his grip remains tight in his son’s hair. It's a delight to feel it again, the same as it was to feel Liha’s mother’s skin beneath his touch. Honao moves his other hand, gripping Liha’s chin to hold his head steadier. His fingers move up to pry between the boy’s lips, forcing his cursing teeth apart and muffling his words of protest. Honao’s skin is too coarse, too thick to make it a problem when Liha bites down. The attempt to have Honao pull away fails.

Liha moves to roll away, attempting to get away by forcing Honao to release him due to a distance between them, but Honao knows that move, and is quick to respond to it. He sits on top of his son, straddling his back.

If Liha was smaller in size, it would be easier to imagine the woman that birthed him. But Liha is tall, taller than Honao even, though just barely. His height only enhances the thought of how skinny the young man is, with his skin stretching tight over his bones. "You need to eat more, boy," Hoano remarks. His thumb strokes Liha’s chin. He feels Liha’s teeth dig into his fingers. "Come home more often, I'll make sure you get all the nutritions you need." He feels Liha’s tongue press up against his fingers as he swallows, and Honao lets out a long, pleased sigh. The sensation of the warm tongue against his finger pad is a wonder. He can feel his cock start to make its presence known, stirring against Liha’s slender back. Honao shifts, and grinds against Liha’s back. He feels Liha still, and Honao knows that Liha has felt the growing erection.

Shifting down to sit lower on Liha, below his knees, he hauls his son up into his lap. He seats the young man close to his body, with the bulge in his trousers pressed against Lihas. It juts out in front of Liha, who bears an expression of shock on his face. Honao feels a stirring in his thighs and stomach, and pulls his boy even closer. He has released Liha’s hair, letting it tumble back in its now mussed tail against the youths neck and Honao’s shoulder, but his grip on Liha’s chin and the fingers between his lips are still there. His free hand tugs at Lihas tank top, moving up beneath it. Honao draws in a deep, deep breath that fills his lungs with the scent of oil paint and paper, similar to Liha’s mother's scent, though not the same. There is the lack of cinnamon and warm apples, and instead there is a tinge of mint and lemon wafting from Lihas hair. Honao makes a note to remind himself to get Liha a better shampoo, to give him that good scent of that good woman.

Liha squirms in Honao’s grip, trying to wriggle free and not yet realising that as a result of his struggling, he is only arousing Honao even further.

Honao’s fingers brush against a nub of flesh. Liha gasps, lips parting slightly. It allows Honao to press his fingers deeper, and the gagging sound and the insistent tongue instantly makes Honao’s cock twitch eagerly. He needs to help the boy train away his gag reflex, but before that he will need to ensure that he won't try to bite his cock off. There's still time and ways to sort that out, though, and first, Honao wants to enjoy himself with the body his son has presented him with.

Liha’s nipples are soft and flat when Honao first finds them. His touch doesn't instantly make them react, though Liha himself certainly does. He whimpers a muffled "stop," that draws a line of spit down his chin, and his cheeks flush a deep red, while his thighs shiver. Honao can feel it against his cock, one of those legs as they shake, and against his own legs as they keep Liha restrained. Honao brushes his lips against the shell of Liha’s ear, and murmurs, "You have such shy nipples, boy. Just like your mother." Liha only whimpers in response, uncertainty visible in the curve of his eyebrows.

With trousers growing tight around his hardening cock, Honao reaches down to unzip his trousers, and pull his underwear down beneath his ballsack. It lands heavy on Liha’s bedspread, and his cock stands proudly more than half-hard in the air. Honao needs to grip Liha’s face tighter when Liha sees the cock, tip glistening with pre-cum, because the young man starts shaking his head, and the protests he presses past Honao’s fingers are unclear, muffled, and only makes Honao's cock twitch as it hardens even more. Honao shushes him softly, even as the protests grow louder when Liha sees Honao’s hand move to the front of Liha’s cropped jeans. Honao undoes the button, and pulls down the zipper. His hand scoops down below Liha's underwear, and Liha squeals in objection when Honao cups his balls and pulls him free.

Their sizes aren't particularly different in flaccid state, Honao notes. He plays with the tongue shifting against his fingers, and presses Liha's limp cock against his own, which almost stands at full mast by now. Liha’s cock is, however, skinnier than Honao's, similar to the way his body is so much slimmer than Honao's is.

There is a soft tuft of auburn hair just above the base of Liha's cock, a few tinges darker than that on his head. Honao draws his fingers through it, and rubs small circles against the skin. For just one brief moment, he sees Liha’s cock twitch, even feels it. He draws his hand down, and wraps it around both their cocks. "Don't you wanna know if you're bigger than your old man down here, too?" he asks. Liha shakes his head, a muffled "no" coming out in a shaky vibration against Honao's fingers. Honao nips at Liha’s ear with his teeth, and draws pre-cum from the tip of his own cock to his palm. "Well, I do," he informs his son, who sniffles quietly. "Shush, boy," Honao urges. "Be good."

Liha’s cock is difficult to coax into arousal, which Honao decides that he has to work on. The boy should be old enough to know when to listen to his dad, and young enough to still be eager to please him to not try to resist. In the end, Liha's body obeys, even as Liha himself mumbles protests and slobbers around the fingers in his mouth.

Even hard, Liha’s cock is slimmer than Honao's, but it is a little longer. Honao presses a kiss to Liha's jaw. "Would you look at that. You sure have grown up in all sorts of ways, boy," he praises softly. His strokes are in rhythm with his words, "I'll give you a prize for it."

Liha's flustered, stained face turns a little, and Liha looks at Honao with pleading eyes. Muffled and with wet lips, he asks if Honao will release him now. Honao presses another kiss to his skin, and moves back to murmur against his ear. "I'll give you something even better than that."

Near the bed, there is a wardrobe. On the wardrobe door's inside, there is a tall mirror, and when Honao slides forward on the bed, Liha still in his lap, he manages to reach it and pull it open.

The sight of Liha in his lap, their cocks close together and Liha's stained, flustered face is a sight to behold. Honao sees Liha's eyes widen, sees his expression grow several shades deeper with humiliation as he takes in how they look. And they look perfect together, Honao thinks. Just like he did with Liha's mother, years ago. "You know," Honao says into Liha's ear as he strokes their cocks. "Your mum was just as pretty in that mirror. Particularly when she rode my cock."

Honao has seen people pale and blush all at once before, but never in the way that Liha pales and blush at Honao's words.

Releasing Liha's chin, Honao's hand that had locked it in place goes down and up, pulling Liha's tank top over his head so it strains against the back of his neck. On the way around again he swipes pre-cum onto his skin. He finds a nipple, swiping spit and pre against it. It finally stiffens, allowing Honao to roll it between his fingers. "Look at that, boy. They're starting to warm up to me."

"Y-you're sick," Liha says with a groan. The young man's whole body twitches, when Honao pinches the nipple between his wet fingers. "You don't want to make your old man unhappy," he threatens softly. Liha shivers again, his legs straining against the weight Honao is putting on them. He whimpers as Honao squeezes his balls, massaging them in his palm a bit too tightly for comfort. "Right?"

Liha's eyes close partially, and from beneath half-lids and knitted eyebrows Liha stares. He bites his lip, and presses his teeth deep as Honao's grip tightens. He groans, words managing to come out mostly intact. "I-I don-'t want to-" he agrees, shaking his head with eyes pressed together. Drool gleams on his chin, reminding Honao that soon, he has to teach the boy to take a cock deep and well down his throat. For now, though, he'll play with Liha's cock. Honao's eyes lock on tools lying scattered on Liha's desk.

Liha studies art, on the side of architecture. He had given good enough reasons as to why he should take extra classes to study art, and Honao had allowed it after some consideration.

That means that Liha has plenty of art supplies around, even in his bedroom in his parents' house. Paints, pens, brushes.

Honao leans sideways just a little, and snatches up an open case of brushes. He sees Liha's confused expression in the mirror, and strokes the base of Liha’s cock with his thumb soothingly, as he in a wordless warning still rolls his balls in his hand. Honao drops the case beside them on the bed.

Some brushes spill out on the warmly striped sheets. They're of varying sizes and some differing shapes, making them have different girth. Honao wraps one arm around Liha, who starts to struggle properly again. "I told you to behave, didn't I?" There is a growl in Honao's voice now, and Liha stills. He is more pale than flustered, now. "Wh- what are you going to do?"

"Play a game," Honao replies, picking out a brush. It's thick, and long, it’s shape a little reminiscent of a string of melded-together beads. It’s one of those so-called ergonomic brushes. "If you can make me cum before we reach this brush, I'll stop." Liha's face is covered in confusion. "You're up for that, aren't you? Or I could just do this on my own, if you prefer. It'll definitely take longer if you don't help, though."

Liha's breaths, when he drags in long, deep ones, are shaky. Eventually he nods, perhaps knowing that he doesn't really have a choice. Honao will use Liha's body to reach climax either way.

Settling back and stopping with his struggles and protests, Liha leans against Honao. He looks at Honao through the mirror, eyebrows drawn together in worry and hesitation. He is pale, he is flushed, and his skin shines with drool that slowly drips down to land on his exposed, shivering chest. Honao strokes Liha’s hair with a spit and pre-cum smeared hand, cooing at him. "That's a good boy, Liha." Liha sniffles. There is a wet shine in his eyes. But he doesn't protest.

"You can start," Honao tells him. He strokes his son's chest, brushing a fingertip occasionally against one of Liha's nipples, and turns most of his focus to the brushes beside them. He feels Liha shift slowly, and his breathing stills for a moment when he feels one of Liha's hands close around his cock. The dry skin soon soaks up the wetness coating it, shivering as it slides along the shaft. Honao lets out a pleased sigh at the sight. Liha's hands, too, look just like his mothers, in every way except in the lack of a wedding ring and nail polish.

Picking a brush that is very thin and long, Honao presses it against Liha's lips. Startled and concerned, Liha looks at him, his hand stilling. "Lick it," Honao tells him. After a few moments, Liha does, his tongue sliding along the thin piece of polished wood. "Coat it well, son," Honao urges. When he removes the brush from Liha's lips, both it and the young man's lips are dripping with saliva.

Bringing down the brush to their groins, Honao grasps Liha's cock gently in one hand, and the brush, bristles up, in the other. Liha startles, his body jumping against Honao's. "D-dad?" Honao shushes him with a soft, soothing sound. "You keep on working me, boy, and I'll work you."

Hands and body shivering, Liha starts to more actively stroke Honao's cock. Honao has to push one of Liha’s arms to the side, to give himself space to work. He strokes Liha's cock, pulling the foreskin completely off the head. Fingers finding a gentle hold just beneath the flare of the glans, Honao angles Liha's cock up toward his belly, keeping it straight. Liha lets out a long-drawn whine when Honao presses the bottom end of the brush against Liha's urethra.

Using his fingers, Honao spreads Liha's urethral opening as much as he's able. Liha stills when Honao starts to softly slide the brush inside. His son whimpers, legs shivering, but otherwise he is completely still. The brush is small enough to be an easy fit. Its sleek coating allows it to be fairly easy to slide inside the first bit. Honao sees it prod at the skin from inside just beneath the glans, and he knows Liha sees it too, when he hears a sharply drawn breath followed by a quiet whine of air pressing out between parted lips. Honao glances up, his hand stilling, and he looks at Liha's reflection in the mirror.

The young man's gaze is completely focused on Honao's hands, and the cock and brush he holds. His face is pale, and sweaty. Honao chuckles to himself, and notes to Liha, "Your hands have stopped, boy." With a visible amount of hesitation and fear, Liha's hands shift slowly, his eyes never leaving Honao's hands.

Honao flicks his gaze back down as well, and he gently works Liha's cock with the brush, making way with it deeper and deeper. The brush can be seen moving beneath the skin, its outline clear despite its slender shape. Honao feels his cock twitch in Liha's grasp, and he works the brush a little faster.

It draws sounds from Liha. Pain, but also, without a doubt, pleasure. It's madly arousing to hear, because Honao has such power over his son at that moment, and the sounds tell him of that. It also reminds him of Liha's mother even more, of the ways she would sound as Honao fucked her deep and hard. Liha, it seems, enjoys the sensation of something moving around inside his cock. Honao is beyond happy to provide him more of that enjoyment, and gently he swirls the brush. Liha lets out a keening sound, and his grip on Honao's cock tightens considerably. The bristles of the brush touch Honao’s hand, and for a moment he lets go, sees the metal that fastens the bristle to the brush close to touching Liha’s urethral opening, and the cock twitches. The head is a deep shade of red, with a slight tint of purple. It must be painful, with how hard it looks. Honao presses a soothing kiss beside Liha’s ear.

When Honao draws the brush out of Liha's cock, Liha lets out another sound. It's somewhat of a gurgle, something of a groaned protest that is forcefully pushed back. Honao knows that Liha wants more, but when he asks, Liha shakes his head fervently. Liha doesn't meet Honao's gaze with his own, not in the mirror, nor directly. Honao can tell that Liha in reality does want more.

And he gives it to him, despite Liha's lies. He picks up another brush, presses it to Liha's lips, and watches with want and joy as Liha with barely a protest coats the brush with a thick layer of his saliva.

This brush is thicker, though not a lot. It still is bigger enough to make it a little harder to slide it inside Liha’s urethra, and Honao can tell by Liha's sounds that there is more pain there than it was with the previous one. But not enough pain to overpower the pleasure, that much is clear to Honao, because Liha is harder than ever, his lips shivering, and his hands' pace uneven. Honao persists, granting Liha the two sensations as they mingle, and together with the movements up and down into Liha’s cock, Honao strokes the skin. The brush is pushed in and pulled out, repeatedly swiveled and twisted, and coaxed deeper and deeper down Liha's urethra.

Liha's hands are sloppy as he tries to work Honao's cock. They are certainly arousing, but the knowledge of how desperately Liha is trying to get Honao is more arousing than the act itself. They fumble with the leaking cock, as Liha gasps and groans, his breath ragged. Honao's cock twitches at each sound, and he is pretty sure that he is coming close to the edge.

But he is determined to bring Liha over the edge first, and he can feel that he, too, is being forced closer and closer to orgasm. Honao pulls the brush out, and he does it with a little less kindness than he has been using in his strokes up until that moment.

Liha's cry is breathy, a moan unlike the others he has made before escaping him. It's unrestrained, made in the exact moment that he loses control over himself. He shudders, and cum sputters from his cock, spattering over the edge of the bed and onto the rug. Honao watches the spectacle with a deep fascination and heavy arousal. His son is heavy against him, his body shaking. Honao feels his own balls tense, and he wraps one hand around Liha's, which still grasp Honao's cock, and aims it upward. The thick ropes of cum that spills from it falls against Liha's belly, into his navel, and one hits his shaking, the glob sliding down the reddened shaft that was slowly softening.

Honao presses a kiss to Liha's cheek, and feels how it burns hot beneath his lips. "You're such a good boy, Liha," he praises. He slowly strokes Liha's cock. The urethra gapes a little, as though gasping and hungry for more. But he did promise to let Liha go if he made Honao cum before he reached that specific brush, and Honao decides to keep that promise. That way, he can more easily coax his son into more games like this in the future.

After all, he thinks as he gently strokes Liha until his orgasm subsides, he has stepped over the threshold now, and he might as well stay on this side of it.

Only once Liha stops shivering does Honao stop stroking him, and he carefully untangles himself from his son's body. Liha lays limp in the bed, his eyes closed until he hears the sound of the shutter.

Widening eyes are caught in another photo, and though his movements are sluggish, Liha heaves himself up, staring in shock at Honao, and the phone in his hand.

"You should practice until next time," Honao tells Liha, who sits on the edge of the bed, smeared with cum and spit, staring with a paling face at him. "Who knows. If you're not good enough to your dear old dad, someone else might come across these pictures. Then they'll know just how indecent you can be."

When Honao closes Liha's bedroom door, his son is still sitting there frozen in shock. Honao knows that he without a doubt has to capture more images of how depraved Liha can look- and perhaps get a few friends to help with that.

Bristles