AnonDad X Garret (Satyr Clop)

>You are Anonymous.

>And you're pretty much the best dad ever.

>After hours of intense bartering with a particularly bothersome griffin merchant, you successfully procured two prime cut, New York Strips.

>With your endearingly uppity wife Rarity out of town on business, you've been given the opportunity to finally prepare the alluring bits of flesh.

>And who better to share this meal with than your carnivorously oblivious son, Garret.

>Whistling a jaunty tune, you rummage about Carousel boutique's Icebox.

>You move the variety of frozen vegetables and delectable ice creams to the side, and smile toothily as you spot your prize.

>With both hands you extract the frozen slabs of meat, near shaking in anticipation for the meal to come.

>Time to get to work.

 

>After some hours of work, you're coming to a close.

>Just in time it would seem, as you hear the bell above the front door of your home chime to mark your son's entrance.

>"Oh father, I'm home!" Garret's sing song voice echoes throughout the boutique. You smile to yourself. He's just in time.

"In here kiddo." You call over the sound of meat sizzling. "Just about done with dinner, if you wanna go ahead and take a seat."

>Food certainly wasn't your fetish, but after so long without smelling proper earth cuisine, your excitement was palpable.

>Garret enters. He's grown up into quite the handsome young man these last few years. No handsome wasn't the right word. He took so much more after his mother. He was, in a word, beautiful.

>And if those mare magazines you'd stumbled upon while taking care of his laundry were anything to go on, a profound faget.

>You don't mind though. He was your son, and you love him. He'd surely make some stallion quite the happy husband one day.

>Sure, your dad wouldn't be all that supportive of all the things you'd like to sink your dick in, but that gives you no excuse to share in such feelings.

>"Mother is right, you know? That apron looks just dashing on you and not to mention-" Your son stops mid sentence, staring down the nearly perfected slices of beef in front of you.

>"What are those?" He asks, dumbfounded.

"These, my dear son, are steaks." To add to your point, you give his steak a quick flip, adding to the already extraordinary sound of sizzling.

>With tentative steps, your son approaches the stove.

>"Are... are they what's making that wonderful aroma?"

>You can't help but grin. You'd been afraid that the equine upbringing would turn Garret off of eating meat.

"They are. I would've preferred to grill them, but pan fried will have to do." You place a hand between the boys shoulder blades, ushering him towards the table. "Sit, sit. This dinner is going to be wonderful for both of us."

>With a watering mouth and a sidelong glance to the steaks, Garret does as you ask, plopping himself down on at the kitchen table.

>You find two large plates, and  place a steak on each, before piling both high with mashed potatoes, green beans, and the best yeast rolls you could find.

>Strutting to the table, you make a grand show of placing the plates down across form one another, eager to see your sons face at the first bite.

"Eat up kiddo, it's all for you."

>"Should we really be partaking in a meal so," He stops to inhale the air around the wonderfully prepared meat, "extravagant, while mother isn't around?"

"Kiddo, even if your mother didn't retch at the smell of this stuff, she'd never be able to digest it properly. I'll have to scrub the kitchen clean of this stuff before she returns."

>Garret nods his understanding at this, and the silverware before him into his dainty hands. You lean back and wait, watching intently as he cuts into the steak.

>He brings the morsel of meat to his lips, pausing to look to you. You give him a reassuring smile and nod.

>His delicate little mouth pulls the bite from his fork, and the following moan of approval the resounds from deep within his throat is all you need to feel satisfied in your ability cook one bitchin' steak.

>From there any semblance of civility is lost as the two of you dig in.

>Licks smacking, silverware scraping, enthusiastic grunts, all make up a chorus of gluttony between father and son.

>When all's said and done, the two of you are left immensely satisfied.

>"Goddess, that was wonderful father." Garret informs, leaning back in his chair with his dainty arms wrapped about his full belly.

>You give a hearty chuckle, taking the soiled plates and silverware to your kitchen sink, leaving the chore of washing them for another day.

"One last thing kiddo." You tell, smiling warmly. "A delight refrained for after dinner." And with that you depart from the kitchen and move into the bedroom you share with Rarity.

>A little rummaging later and you've found your private reserve.

>With a triumphant smile you return to the kitchen, cradling your bottle of aged scotch as you would a child.

>A fine, rare thing you'd gotten as a Hearts Warming gift from one Mr. Heartstrings.

>Despite its abundance in Equestria, there was no real age restriction on alcohol, so you felt reasonably confidant in giving some to your growing boy.

 

>"And of course Gala decided that of all days to come to class shirtless. 'Pa goes about without it, figured Ah could too,' he told us. Oh, and to top it all off Miss Cheerilee decided I'd be the perfect candidate for dragging to the front of the class to solve her bothersome math problems. Ugghhh"

>You give a deep chuckle at your sons past discomforts.

>Truth be told, this might have not been the best idea.

>You'd hoped that Garret would have your tolerance for alcohol, but it would seem it was just wishful thinking on your part.

>Even having drunk barely a fifth of what you'd consumed, your darling boy was red faced, stumbling, and mumbling out embarrassing thoughts.  

>Over the course of half an hour he'd come out to you, cried about it, asked for help and resigned to his apparent fate of being a bachelor for the rest of eternity.

>Even still, it was refreshing to have him speaking with you. One thing he'd gotten from you was a tendency to let emotions fester within rather than talking them out.

>At some point or another you'd led your stumbling son into the living room, you resting on the couch, and your son assuming a spot on your knee that had gone bear for the longest time.

>Ever the conversationalist, Garret had talked your ear off all the while.

>You liked hearing his voice though.

>So much like his mothers...

>"You know, I feel as if I'm starting to appreciate the trouble you went through finding mother."

"Oh?"

>"Mmhmm. There are few colts about pining after other colts, and even fewer after an.... an abomination." He tells you with obvious disdain in his voice. You could do nothing more than to giving a disappointed frown and place either hand under his arms.

"Hey now, don't talk like that kiddo." You say sternly, lifting your son up and placing him properly on your lap, pulling his head into your chest. "You're a perfectly handsome young man, anyone would be lucky to have you." You say reassuringly, running a hand along your sons back.

>His dainty hands find purchase on your chest, and he pushes back, staring up at you with those big blue eyes.

>"Do you really think that, father?"

"Of course I do kiddo. Your mother is one of the most beautiful mares in Equestria. Of course you're nothing short of stunning. I mean -" Before you can continue your surely silly string of admiration for your sons good looks, you're forced into an abrupt, alcohol induced, incestual kiss.

>You give a surprised groan, and through some baser instincts your hands plant themselves firmly on your sons flanks.

>Your fingers sink into the lithe and tender globes of white, eliciting an approving moan from your son.

>By the act of some eternally malicious god, the only ass in Ponyville that could ever rival that of your wife, belongs to your son.

>Through the will of that same god did you find yourself growing erect as you sat there, bewilderedly making out with your own son.

>You manage to find your common sense and wrench yourself away from your sons eager lips.

"Garret," You pant "just what the shit do you think you're doing?!"

>"Oh father," He starts, desperation clear in his voice "I've heard it almost ever night, how you make Mother howl your name, how you keep the neighbors from sleep with your godly ministrations." He admits, beginning to rock to and fro in your lap

>"And I've read! Oh father how I've read, in Mothers journal. How you make her feel like a goddess. How, how you ravage her until she can hardly walk. Oh please father, make me feel like that too!"

>His eyes are threatening to burst into tears as he stairs up at you.

>"Please Daddy, make me feel beautiful!"

>It's all you can do to sit and stare as he reveals himself to you.

>You honestly don't know what to feel.

>There's disappointment, in yourself, for raising your son in an environment that would promote such an unhealthy feeling.

>There's shame, once more at yourself, for finding yourself actually considering the option of giving in to your sons request.

>There's fear, of someone finding out  that you'd let it go even this far.

>Then there's that last thing

>That last little,  throbingly powerful thing

 

>Something deep within you, is painfully hard at the situation you find yourself in.

>It's this deep, twisted force in the depths of your mind that drives you to plant your lips back on his.

>He's just as surprised as you are, but immediately returns the kiss with twice the passion of before.

>With a deep groan, you lift your son up and begin stumbling towards your bedroom.

>With great care you lay your son down on the center of the bed.

>The same bed he'd been made on.

>Something in you grins at that fact.

>You make quick work of both of your clothing,

>You'd seen your little boy naked an immeasurable number of times.

>Came with the fatherhood thing.

>This was different though.

>Now you were in the right mindset to appraise your son, not as your son, but as a piece of meat, dedicated to your pleasure.

>Long legs, skinny little thighs with just the right suppleness to them.

>Perfectly flat chest and stomach, well sculpted shoulders.

>Big blue eyes that held nothing but love and respect for you.

>The eyes are what did it for you.

"Spread." You demand, motioning for him to open his legs for you.

>The long rod of meat that flops out when he does so is, much like the rest of him, perfect.

>Blotted white, black and pink, it throbs in anticipation at things to come.

>Your mouth waters at the site of it, and your own member throbs in envy.

> Even still, his isn't the organ that's getting pleased tonight.

>You reach over to Rarity's night stand.

>Within its drawers are a multitude of toys and nick nacks, all excellent for spicing up ones bedroom escapades.

>Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets, as one might say.

>Your search yields one near empty bottle of personal lubricant.

>A few shakes and what's left of the substance pools near the cap, and giving it a firm squeeze, you successfully coat your waiting member in it.

>Now properly lubed, you position yourself outside of Garret's virgin entrance. In his eyes you see something all too familiar. Nervousness, muted out by intense determination.

>He really is your son, you know?

>He deserves better than this.

>He deserves to be nurtured, licked and kissed all over before making a gentle entrance.

>With this in mind, you ram that shit in in one quick, merciless thrust.

>He can't even scream properly, he's so strained.

>He's tight. Tighter than his mother or than any human girl could hope to be.

>That same lustful demon in your head that brought you to this position holds little regard for your sons well being as your piston in and out of his tight little cavern.

>Through sheer, brutal repetition has he become accustomed to your girth within him, and successfully found how pleasurable the hot monkey dick is.

>He and his mother share a similar 'Utterly fucked' face while in this position, and you just love it.

>He's screaming now.

>Loud, shrill, and absolutely raunchy.

>You couldn't be blamed for nearing your climax quickly.

>He was too perfect.

"Cumming!" You grunt before your climax.

>Striving for a perfect finish, Garret chooses then to reach his own peak.

>"Daddddyyyy~" He groans as his cock unleashing a torrent onto his chest  just as yours does the same within him.

>All you could do is roll off of your properly fucked son.

>He assumes Rarity's position, head on your chest with your arm wrapped around his back.

>You'd perform damage control in the morning.

 

>"Honey I'm home~" Came Rarity's sing song voice. Garret gives you a bright smile and hops up from his place at the table, leaving his half finished bowl of cereal behind.

"How'd it go hun?" You ask, following after him to see your wife looking relatively ragged after her short journey.

>"Oh just swimmingly darling. Awfully tiring though." She gives Garret a loving, albeit lazy hug before trotting along towards the bedroom. "A quick nap is just what I need right now. I'm sure my stallions can wait a bit to catch up, hmm?"

>"Sleep well mother. Father and I will have a nice meal prepared before you wake, I guarantee it." Your son say, ushering Rarity along the way to your bed.

>He comes back to you just a few moments later, a swing in his hips and a sultry look in his eyes.

>"We've got time to kill, father."

>Before you can think up something witty, you're on the couch, pants around your ankles, sons head in your lap

>You are Anonymous.

>And you're pretty much the worst dad ever.