footballers families

au where bitty comes from a family of, like, eight siblings…and he’s the tallest of them all.

Football Season

Dad says that he’s glad it’s fall!  And I know why…cause he’s always waiting for me to get home from football practice.  The other guys don’t know why I don’t strip off my gear and shower before I leave school.  I go home, still in uniform, because I know how horny it makes Dad!

I’m barely in the door and he’s on his knees in front of me.  He unlaces my football pants and pulls the pouch of my sweaty jock aside.  My thick cock flops out right into his face.  Before you can yell “TOUCHDOWN”, Dad has his lips wrapped around my pecker and he swallows it all the way to the balls.  He breathes in through his nose, taking in the smell of my jock and pubes, as his throat muscles start to milk my now-throbbing cock.

This routine has been going on ever since I made first-string and I caught Dad looking at me in a way that fathers generally don’t look at their sons.  I started to notice that he’d drop whatever he was doing when I entered the room and his eyes would follow my every move.  I gotta admit that it weirded me out a little at first being that he’s my Dad and all.  But, hey, I like guys…especially mature ones.  So, if Dad wanted to look, I’d give him a show.

I started making sure that I walked around the house in as little clothing as possible.  Yeah, I knew I was being a prick tease but that was the whole point.  Dad would watch me as I walked through the living room headed to the kitchen wearing only basketball shorts, tight briefs (which I bought special to tease him with), or just my jock if I felt especially brazen.  Out of the corner of my eye, I’d catch him lick his lips and readjust his cock in his pants.  The man was in a constant state of arousal whenever I was around.

It wasn’t until the day I came home from practice in full gear that he finally slipped up.  He was sitting on the couch when I walked in.  He looked me up and down, his eyes practically raping me.  I took full advantage and stretched and flexed as we made small talk…giving him a good show.  I could see the bulge in his sweatpants get even thicker and I knew that he was so fucking horny.

I stripped off my jersey and pads and, turning my back to dad, placed them on the floor giving him a good view of my ass in the white nylon pants.  They were thin enough that you could see the straps of my jock framing my ass.  When I stood and turned back around, the front of his sweats had a small, but spreading, spot on them.  Fucking perv was so horned up that he was leaking into his pants!  I kind of chuckled and shook my head as I walked past him and to the kitchen to get a drink.

That’s when I got a really dirty idea.  I unlaced my pants and pulled my semi-hard cock out of my jock and let it dangle over the laces.  I knew that my pecker was a big one…lots bigger than most of the other guys on the team…so I was always more than happy to show it off.  I walked back into the living room with it hanging and swinging with every step.  Dad scrambled, but wasn’t fast enough for me not to catch him as he pulled his hand out of his pants.

“Like what you see, Dad,” I asked him as I shook my cock around.  Dad was off the couch and on his knees in front of me like some cheap whore.  I’d had my cock sucked by plenty of guys (a couple of the slutty cheerleaders, too), but never had I gotten head like I was getting from my own Dad!

I was throbbing hard in no time!  “Suck it, bitch,” I growled, and Dad went to town.  He swallowed me all the way down to the balls and then slid his lips back up and slobbered all over my knob.  Dad sure was an expert cocksucker!  He knew just what I liked and could swallow me like no one else has ever been able to accomplish.  I was getting really close, “Gonna feed you a hot one, Dad,” I growled.

Dad instantly pulled off my cock and bent over the couch.  He’d gotten his sweat pants off while he was working on my rod.  “No, you’re not,” he huffed out.  “You’re gonna shoot that load somewhere better!”  He reached back and spread his cheeks.  “Fuck me, son,” he yelled out.

I got up behind him and spat a huge glob into his ass cleft and roughly started to finger it into his opening.  Dad started to moan like a slut and my cock throbbed even more and a huge rope of precum dripped down and landed on the back of one of his legs.  I couldn’t wait any longer and roughly plowed my throbber into his dad-pussy.  He let out a grunt, but took every inch of me.  I was so fucking hot that the fuck didn’t last long.  “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck, fuck..fuck…” was all Dad could say.

I slammed into him, fast and furious and could feel my balls draw up ready to fire my teen seed into my old man’s hairy ass.  I bit my lip, trying to hold off as long as I could. “Gonna…gonna…gotta shoot, Dad,” I growled.

“Breed me, son!  Make me your bitch whore,” he yelled out.  That sent me over the edge and I unloaded a huge load of steaming spunk into that fuck hole.  My eyes rolled back in my head and I saw stars.  I thought I was going to pass out…never have I had a fuck this good!

I pulled my cock out of his ass and some of my cum followed the head as his asshole clamped shut.  Dad flipped himself around and shoved me down on the couch, taking my slimy cock in his mouth and cleaning it throughly.  He was jerking his cock as he sucked me.  Being a teenager, I quickly got hard again and fired a second load down his throat as he unloaded all over my legs and feet.

“Fuck,” I gasped as he let my dick slip from his mouth and looked up at me with a grin.  His lips were glistening with spit, cum and his ass juice.  

“Yeah…and a fuck was just what I needed, son!”

“You’re MY bitch now, Dad,” I said with a grin.  “Gonna take it whenever I want!”

“I’m counting on it, boy,” he said with a laugh.

During Jack and Bitty’s 2nd summer together...

So Jack is in Georgia for a couple of days, right, and he comes back from a morning run to find both Bittle parents in the kitchen eating breakfast (Bitty slowly dragging is ass out of bed, he can hear the bathroom upstairs). 

Suzanne greets him with a smile, Coach with a nod, Jack sits down to eat. Usually, there’s a fair amount of chatter- even without Bitty- because Jack is comfortable with both parents, but now they’re eating in silence. Throwing furtive glances at Jack. At each other. At Jack again.

Jack’s stars feeling the tingle in his fingers that announces his anxiety. He counts the seconds until Bitty leaves the bathroom- no, that was the sound of the shower. Alright then.

Suzanne places her mug back on the table.

- Jack, sweetheart, we need to talk to you.

Coach takes a sip of coffee and sits back straight.

- …Alright? says Jack.

- We’ve seen the way you look at Junior, says Coach in a matter-of-fact voice.

(more under the cut)

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inktail  asked:

I've got a soft spot for Steve recovering pieces of his past. Imagine some great grand cousins on the Rogers side contacting Steve, showing him pictures of his father, to see if that's really who they think it is?

Tony had told him not to go, because it’s the twenty-first century, Cap.  Anyone can seem like they’re honest.  It’s a scam. Don’t go.

Steve had gone.  

(Natasha had handed him a manila folder without a word and Steve hadn’t needed it, was going to go anyway, because he’d known the man was honest, he didn’t need Natasha’s to prove it.)   

They met in a café, small and out of the way.  The man was reserved, with an average build, but he had a wry quirk to his mouth, the same square to his jaw.  

His name was Joseph (call me Joe) and they muscled through stilted small talk for several minutes before Joe caved (Steve never said he was always the brave one).

“I brought –I thought you might like to see these.  It’s why I tried to contact you in the first place.” Joe produced an envelope with a handful of black and white pictures in them, edges worn but lovingly kept.  “I think we’re…” Joe paused.  “…cousins.” 

Steve sifted through them carefully: a man in a military uniform with a serious set to his mouth, sporting the jaw that Steve and Joe seemed to have inherited; the same man and a woman smiling, the man in his uniform and a slight woman –a slight –Steve’s mother- in a white dress.   

“That – that’s my mother.”  Steve set the third picture down carefully. “Where did you get these?”

The ghost of a smile was hovering on Joe’s lips.  “My mother.  Her grandmother had a brother that died young, in the First World War.  I didn’t think much of it until I saw-“

“-The Smithsonian.”

“Yeah.” Joe smiled.  “I just thought,” he motioned to his face, “there’s some similarities and what they had on your family, it wasn’t much, but it looked like the woman in the wedding pictures.”  He shrugged. “I thought it’d be worth a shot.” 

Steve smiled.  “I’m glad you did.  I didn’t realize I had any family.  It was always Ma and me, and then…just me.”

Something shifted in Joe’s face that Steve recognized as what Sam called his Stubborn Ass Resolve face.  

“Look, I know you probably have plans or invitations, but my wife and I host Thanksgiving every year.  We always have room for more family.”

Steve sipped his coffee in an effort to distract from the itch in his eyes and be sure his voice would hold. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’d like that.”