Warning! This story involves incest. Do not continue if you are likely to be offended!

Note: If you missed Part One of Dynasty, you can find it here: Dynasty: Third Generation

It was a real shock to my system the day I found out that my father was gay – just like me, his son, and my son, Boy, his grandson.

It all started on a week's family getaway to my father's remote beach cottage on Vancouver Island. My father didn't want to come, so there was just me, my boyfriend Kevin, my son Boy, and his fuck-buddy Poco. We had the area all to ourselves. The nearest neighbours were a farmer and his wife a quarter of a mile along the beach.

The second day there, a Sunday, we had been down at the beach, but Poco said he was getting burned, so headed back to the house to rest up and get out of the sun. My son Boy followed him about an hour later. Kevin and I did some hot making-out on the deserted beach before we, too, decided to head back to the house. After all, fucking in the sand isn't as pleasant as it sounds. Kevin had to go back to Vancouver to work next morning, and we wanted to make the most of our time here.

When we got to the house, Boy was sitting alone downstairs. We didn't have to ask where Poco was. From one of the upstairs bedrooms were coming the unmistakeable sounds of hot man-on-man sex.

"Who's he got up there with him?" I asked Boy, puzzled.

"I'm not sure," Boy said. "It's an older guy. I think it must be Mr. Brown from next door."

"Farmer Brown? I didn't think he went in for guys."

"Maybe not," Boy informed us, "but I have seen him eyeing my goodies before now."

As we pondered the puzzle, Poco's sex cries reached a peak. Poco and the man fucking him must both have reached a climax. We all grinned, and listened for what would happen next. There were sounds of footsteps and a muttered conversation, movements. We heard a door open, and more footsteps coming to the top of the stairs.

"Pop!" I exclaimed, stunned.

"Jim!" cried Kevin.

"Gramps!" Boy gasped, horrified.

Seeing my father standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in just his undies still tented out by his swollen cock, and realizing he had just been fucking the young man standing there with him, also in his undies, at first made me want to scream accusations such as "Pervert!" and "Pederast!" at him, but almost immediately, memories of my own behaviour flooded over me.

My mind raced back to those dark days, over twenty years ago, when my wife Mary had died. I had felt so all alone, no matter how hard Mom and Pops tried to console me, to get me to take an interest in our new-born baby.The only person I took any consolation in, however, was Mary's younger brother, Kevin. Maybe it was because he looked so much like Mary; maybe it was because, like Mary, he was such a gentle, caring person.

I was in a deep depression during that period. I didn't even want to see my infant son. I didn't even name him. I gave him over to the care of Mom and Pops, because I couldn't care for him. I couldn't even care for myself. That's how my son got the nickname "Boy" – because that's all I called him in those first couple of months: "The Boy."

During my black time, Kevin moved in with me. He took leave from his job, and cared for me, cooked for me, made sure I ate, made sure I went to bed, made sure I got out of bed. He made sure I started living again.

He even arranged for Boy to come home to live with us rather than with Mom and Pops. Kevin found Gladys, a wonderful part-time nanny who lived nearby. She was very happy to look after the baby either in her home or mine, leaving Kevin and I free to return to our respective jobs. On those rare occasions when Gladys wasn't available at a moment's notice, Mom and Pops were always ready waiting in the wings. They couldn't get enough of their only grandchild – especially Pops.

And it was during this same period that Kevin and I became lovers. I never meant for it to happen – but maybe Kevin did. I know now he'd always thought of himself as gay. It started in a time when Kevin and I were both working odd hours, so Boy was back staying with Mom and Pops for a week or two.

The first step was when I walked in on Kevin in the bathroom between our two bedrooms. I swear I didn't mean to. I didn't even know he was in there. When I entered, he turned from pissing, his large cock still hanging out of his jeans.

I had always been intrigued with the sight of other men's cocks, but had never examined one closely – just brief glimpses at urinals. Kevin seemed in no hurry to tuck his cock away, and I couldn't resist staring at it.

"You like that, eh?" Kevin laughed. I chuckled, too, but embarrassed. I quickly apologized for staring. "Nothing to be sorry for," he told me, and tucked his dick away, and the moment passed.

But I couldn't get the memory of his lovely dick out of my mind. I wanted to touch it, yes, even to taste it. I had never been with a man, and never even considered it until now. But the thought of sex with Kevin began to consume me. I wanted his cock. I wanted his ass. I wanted his mouth. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted him to fuck me.

The next time I walked in on him in the bathroom wasn't an accident. I was in my bedroom, about to change, when I heard him him go in, and my cock leapt. I pushed open the door from my bedroom to the bathroom and entered. He was expecting me. He wasn't pissing or crapping. He was sitting on the toilet, its lid down, his pants down, slowly masturbating his huge, stiff cock. My own became stiffer every moment.

"Looking for this?" he asked, nodding down at his rigid cock.

"Yes," I admitted, breathlessly. "I've wanted to see your cock hard ever since the other day. It's all I've thought about," I confessed.

"Me too," Kevin agreed. "Do I get to see yours. too," he asked.

"OK," I whispered, huskily. I could hardly breathe. My knees seemed to be buckling under me. I leaned against the bathroom wall, as I undid my belt, my fly, and slipped my pants and underpants down over my steel-hard prick, which leapt upright.

"Oh, wow! That's beautiful!" exclaimed Kevin. "I hope you won't hate me for saying this, but I want to go to bed with you, to have sex with you." he said, haltingly, as if afraid of what my reaction might be.

"Yes, that's what I want, too," I gasped out. "Let's go to my bedroom." We hurriedly discarded our pants and undies right then and there on the bathroom floor and moved into my bedroom. Kevin stripped me of my shirt, and I tore his from his body. We were naked together, both rock-hard. He put his arms around me and drew me to him, our cocks pressing against each other. Before I knew it, Kevin was kissing me, and I was kissing him back, thirsting for him.

Locked together, we fell onto my bed. We writhed and squirmed together, relishing each other's hot bodies. I fondled and squeezed his cock. he did the same to mine. Then he took my cock in his mouth, and I thought I would explode. I wanted to taste his cock also, and squirmed round until we were in the 69 position, and we each gobbled at the other's rod.

In the following hours we explored everything we could think of. We were living on lust. We started our little two man orgy soon after I had gotten home from work. By the time we eased of, it was close to midnight. Neither of us had eaten supper, and sexually we were spent. I'm not sure how many times I had cum in those hours, but at least four or five. I do remember Kevin sucked me off once and I thought I was going to die from the exquisite pain. I do remember we both fucked each other, and that I had cum in his ass, and he had done the same to me. I was sure that it would hurt like hell, but unlike myself, Kevin had fucked ass and been fucked in the ass before. He taught me the niceties of relaxation of the sphincter and the use of a good lubricant.

We ended our marathon with a mutual masturbation session, shooting what was left of our cum all over each other and the bedsheets.

We lay together, spent, for a while, before I said, "I guess this makes us homos, eh?"

"I don't know about you," Kevin chuckled. "But I've been a homo forever."

"I think I love you," I murmured.

"I know I love you," he stated. "I've loved you since the first day I ever saw you, since the day Mary bought you home to meet my parents. I was so jealous that she had your love and I never would – or so it seemed."

"I guess I'm lucky," I said. "I get to love you both," I told him. "Now let's go downstairs and get something to eat. I'm famished."

Kevin moved into my bedroom that night. We lived together as secret lovers for the next three years, until Boy was a toddler and old enough to start asking questions. That was in a time before the sexual revolution. Sodomy and homosexuality had only recently been decriminalized and two adult men living together were enough to raise eyebrows and start tongues wagging. There was no longer any valid reason for Kevin to be living with me, so he got his own apartment a few blocks away, but we continued with our love affair whenever we could discreetly do so for the next twenty years until the present.

Only lately have we considered "outing" our relationship. Boy accepts that Kevin and I are lovers, and so do his friends. He just doesn't tell then Kevin is also his uncle. Maybe we will "out" ourselves to others soon; who knows? Till then it remain a secret among Kevin, Boy, and myself.

Another deep, dark secret that Boy and I share is one that we will probably never share with anyone else: my son and I fuck each other! Yes, I know, that shocks you. You probably despise me, but I am not ashamed of it. Boy and I have a loving relationship. I would never hurt him. It's not as if I abused him or anything. It was he who first made moves on me. I just gave in to his desires – and my own, I must admit.

When Kevin moved out to his own apartment, his bedroom became Boy's bedroom. As I have said, the two bedrooms shared a bathroom which could be reached from either. When Kevin stayed the night, he would ostensibly use the third bedroom, our 'guest' room, but would tiptoe into my bedroom when we thought Boy was sound asleep. We would be sure to lock the bathroom door on my side on those occasions.

But that shared bathroom eventually led to sex between Boy and myself. I suppose it was my fault. I have to confess that when Kevin wasn't round, I was an habitual, chronic masturbator. I jerked off at least twice a day, and almost always as soon as I got home from work, before I had even changed.

I often forgot to close the bathroom door, and I know there was more than one occasion when Boy caught me in the act. In fact, I'm sure that by the time he was fifteen or so, he was deliberately spying on me trying to get a look at my rather large cock.

I began to suspect he was gay by the time he was sixteen and was showing no interest in girls. He did, however, have a succession of cute boy friends who often stayed the night, sharing Boy's bed with him on these "sleep-overs." From the night-time noises I heard coming from Boy's room, I suspected they weren't just sleeping. I didn't say anything, however. I would leave it up to him to tell me when he was ready.

I became absolutely certain of my suspicions one evening when I went into the bathroom to take a leak, and he had left his door ajar. Strange noises made me look. Boy was so intently involved that he didn't even notice me. His pants were round his ankles, and he was bending over to view his ass in the full-length mirror beside the bathroom door in his room. He had inserted a cucumber up his ass, and was busy masturbating as he used the veggie to fuck himself.

He might have been just a fifteen-year-old kid, but it was a very erotic picture. My cock got instantly hard, but I quietly closed the door before I went back to my room and jerked off. In the weeks that followed, I often made little comments about rabbits eating the carrots and cucumbers from our backyard garden, but Boy didn't let on what had really happened to the produce.

It all came to a climax – to make a very bad pun – when Boy was sixteen and had just finished high-school. I was just home from work and ready for my ritual daily "getting-home-from-work" wank. I was just stripping off my shirt and pants ready to get down to the task at hand, when I glanced towards the bathroom door. Boy was there, peeping in at me, his jeans round his ankles and his t-shirt hiked up, his own hard, circumcised cock in hand.

A big grin spread over his face when he realized he had surprised me – or maybe it was at the sight of my massive hard-on, which was already dribbling pre-cum. I was that horny! And when I'm horny I dribble loads of pre-cum.

Boy said something light and joking, I don't remember exactly what now, but it was something like, "You need a hand there, Dad?" or "Two hands are better than one." Whatever it was, it was obviously a request to join me.

I know I replied with something stupid like, "You're too young to be jerking off," when he obviously wasn't too young. He had a thick bush of pubic hair and a very large, very hard cock.

He objected,"Don't worry. I know all about sex, and man sex, and wanking and fucking and butt-fucking and all that. I'm plenty old enough."

I suddenly saw us from another perspective, as someone who didn't know us might see us: He certainly was old enough. We were two men standing there, their pants around their ankles, horny for each other's cocks. And suddenly I was very horny for my own son's cock!

"Get the rest your clothes off, and let's sit down and have a serious talk," I told him, patting the bed, then proceeded to get rid of the rest of my clothes too, discarding them to the floor. Boy took my lead and stripped naked also, then sat beside me on the bed. Both of us were very hard. He reached out and grasped mine. Although I thrilled to his touch, I snapped,

"Did I say you could touch it? I said 'talk', not 'touch"!

Boy looked chastened.

"Sorry," he said meekly. "But can I touch it?"

"Might as well," I said reluctantly, "since we've gone this far already." Then I smiled, "I want to touch yours, too," I confessed.

Boy enjoyed smoothing my pre-cum all over my stiff rod, working my foreskin, as I grasped and rubbed his hard, hard cock also. He had an impressive chunk of meat. I felt so wonderfully solid in my grasp. This was not a boy-cock; it was a man-cock!

"I've been spying on you for ages," he told me. "Watching you jack off. It makes me so horny!"

"I've been spying on you, too," I confessed, rubbing his shaft.

"I guessed you were," Boy told me. "Did it make you horny?"

"Yes," I admitted. "But it made me very guilty also. Fathers and sons aren't supposed to do things like this together. It's against the law.

"I know," Boy agreed, as we continued to fondle and explore each other's cocks. I was amazed had how big his was for a sixteen-year-old. He definitely took after his father. "My God, you sure have grown big since I used to bath you," I joked.

He laughed. Boy wanted to get something off his chest: "I've been horny for you for a long time, and I've felt guilty about it, too."

"Don't feel guilty about it," I told him. "I'm not mad. I don't mind. I've been horny for you for a while, too – ever since I saw you with a zucchini up your bum like a big green cock. You were so into fucking yourself with it, you didn't even see me watching. I wanted it to be my cock in you! I had to be satisfied with jerking off later. I sure shot a huge load!"

Boy laughed again.

"So it made you want to fuck me?" he asked.

Embarrassed, I admitted, "Yes."

"Will you fuck me right now?" Boy asked.

"I'm used to being fucked," Boy objected. "I've been fucked before. Lots of my boyfriends have fucked me."

"But their cocks aren't as big as mine!" I argued.

"Nearly!" he said. "And I have been fucked by a grown man with a cock just as big as yours!" This was news to me, but I didn't question him about it then and there.

Boy was still rubbing my cock. If he kept on, I would cum soon. I was so very horny.

"Well" I admitted, "you've got me so horny now, I'll try. But if it hurts you, tell me right away, and I'll stop. Bend over the end of the bed there."

Boy moved to the end of the bed, where he stood, legs apart, his outthrust arms supporting him from the bed, while I smeared some KY on my cock and his ass. I placed my knob at his hole and pushed gently. I saw him wince with pain once as my cock-head went into him, but then the rest of my cock followed it easily, his anus wrapping itself around my disappearing rod. As my cock drove into my son, I was at once frightened, fascinated, and exhilarated. Not even fucking Kevin was exiting as this. I was p filled with passion, lust, and paternal love. Soon I was all the way into him – fucking my own son.

"Fuck me, dad! Fuck me," he cried. "It feels so good!"

We did it that way for a little while, until I suggested a new position which would not be so awkward for either of us. W both lay on our sides on the bed, and I entered him that way. It was a very comfortable way to fuck for both of us. I could nuzzle his neck while we fucked. He even turned his head back so we could kiss. It was not a fatherly kiss, or a romantic kiss. It was a purely sexual kiss!

Thinking Boy must have had enough of my large cock pounding him by now, I pulled out of his hot little ass.

"No!" he cried."Cum inside me." I slid my penis back into him. It only took a few more strokes until my cock erupted, blasting a massive load into my son's ass.

Afterwards, we lay there, fondling each other. After a while he asked me, "Have you ever done this with another guy?"

I considered for quite for a while before I decided to tell him the truth:

"Yes," I told him. "Your Uncle Kevin and I have been fucking each other for years. No! Not just fucking! We've been lovers for years. Since soon after your mother died. Her death brought us together. He was every good to me while I was grieving, and it just sort of happened. We grew into loving each other and fucking each other. We still do – love each other and fuck each other!"

"Oh, wow!" Boy breathed. I could see him assimilating the information, recalling all the times Kevin had stayed the night, all the times Kevin and I must have been fucking without Boy realizing it.

"You got to keep that a secret between the three of us," I cautioned. "It would kill Poppa Murphy to find out his son was gay and fucking me, his dead daughter's husband."

"Of course!" Boy agreed.

"And you must never tell anyone, not anyone, about what you and I just did! Not even Gramps." Boy regularly told his favourite grandfather everything.

I chuckled as I turned my ass to him and handed him the tube of KY. I soon found that having my son's long thick cock in me was just as exciting as having mine in him.

Over the last five years, Boy and I have continued to fuck each other occasionally, and always enjoy it as much as the first time. Any guilt has long gone. It is just something we do and that both enjoy. Occasionally, we actually sleep together. It's the sex that is foremost. But I have Kevin as my life partner, and Boy has had a series of teenage boyfriends as he looks for his own Mr. Right.

Which brings me back to the beach house.

The accusations I had wanted to throw at my father were buried under the knowledge of my own culpability.

"So what are you all staring at? Isn't an older guy allowed to get his rocks off once in a while?" my father demanded, from the top of the stairs.

We all stood there, open-mouthed.

"Man-sex is Ok for you, isn't it Boy?" he asked. "And don't try to tell me you and Kevin haven't been fucking each other for years, Son," my father accused. "Well, it's my turn now!"

Holy cow! My father was into sex with guys! We were three generations of gay men, three generations of butt-fuckers!