Ramrod

Your Last Morning

You see the early morning sun peek through the barred window. The day you've been dreading is here.

You lie on the hard bed of your prison cell, spooning with your 12-year-old son. Though the cell is cold, you are both naked, your orange prison jumpsuits crumpled on the floor. Your semi-hard cock is nestled in the crack of his smooth young ass, splashed with dried cum from last night's desperate lovemaking. His hairless, preteen dick lies flaccid on the mattress in a pool of its own seed. You are reluctant to wake your son, not wanting him to know that the sun has risen. Today is the day both you and he have been sentenced to death.

In the eyes of the theocratic Holy Republic, incest and homosexuality are the only two crimes so severe that not even children are exempt from the death penalty. Your religious zealot harpy of a wife discovered you with your cock stuffed up your son's bottom as he bent over the living room coffee table.

The trial was quick. Your son was given the chance to sign a statement claiming that he had been raped by his father, which would have spared him execution. You begged him to sign it but he refused.

"No matter what the prophets say, I know our love was blessed by God," he told you. "I will not deny it to anyone."

You briefly wonder why both you and your son were placed in the same cell, considering your crimes. Was it just a bureaucratic oversight? Or is there someone on the other end of that security camera on the ceiling who secretly enjoys witnessing your crimes?

You look down at your son's blond head and lightly caress his cock, thinking about the night your affair had started. Due to a deacon getting sick, your wife had to work late at the local church, leaving you alone with your six-year-old son. The duty of bathing him is left to you.

You soap his legs and, without thinking about it, start rubbing his tiny cock. The moment you touch it, your son lets out a moan of clearly sexual pleasure.

You stop, your heart pounding. Despite yourself, you feel your cock hardening in your pajama pants.

"That felt good, Daddy," he said. "Could you do it again?"

You nod dumbly and continue rubbing your soapy hand on your son's cock. He moans loudly and squirms against your hand. He grinds harder and faster until you feel his tiny dick throb under your grasp. Your son gasps loudly and, while you feel nothing coming out, you know you just gave your son an orgasm.

The bathroom is silent for a long minute.

"That felt good, Daddy," he says again. "Could you do it again?"

"Okay," you answer against your better judgment. "But you must promise never to tell your mother."

"I promise! But 3;"

"But?" you echo nervously.

"Can I see yours?"

You sigh in relief. "Sure." You lower your pajama pants and reveal your fully-grown cock.

Your son's eyes go wide. "WOW! It's so big and hairy! And why's it wet at the end?"

"That's precum," you answer. "When a grownup man gets the good feeling I just gave you, his cock squirts a lot of white creamy stuff called 'sperm' or 'cum'."

"Woah. Can I see?"

"Absolutely." You stand, your cock pointing at your son's face. You stroke your large, fatherly boner. Thanks to your son's recent introduction to gay incest, you are already on the verge of cumming and you stroke less than a minute before groaning in pleasure and spraying five thick white ropes of cum onto your son.

After you come down from your high, you open your eyes to see your son's hair, face, and chest covered in your seed. It runs down his smooth young body in white rivers and mixes into his bathwater.

For six years, the two of you take any time alone to indulge in your secret perversions. You introduce your son to oral and anal sex and he loves giving and receiving both. At first you are careful, only fucking when you know your wife will be out of the house for a long time. But as time goes on, you grow complacent and careless, sometimes sneaking off to your son's room while she sleeps in the master bedroom. And that is what led to your imprisonment here.

You wonder about that fateful night. If the deacon hadn't gotten sick and if your wife hadn't needed to work late, would you and your son get to live a long, normal life? But you push the thought from your mind. The two of you were never meant to have a normal father-son relationship. You would prefer a short life sharing the ultimate pleasure with your one true love than a long life living as a mere father and son, forever knowing that your relationship was missing something but never knowing what.

Back in the present, you feel your son stirring awake in your arms. Without looking at you, he says "Is it time yet?"

"Almost." His execution is scheduled for the morning while yours is in the evening. Any minute now, the guards will come to escort him to his death. The thought of living even a few hours without your son is unbearable.

Your son rises from the bed and places his hands around the bars of your cell door, jutting his ass back at you. "Daddy, please fuck me one last time. If I'm going to die, I want to do it with your seed inside me."

Your cock rises to meet your son's last request. You take your place behind him and stuff your erection into his tight little butthole one more time. You both grunt and moan in pleasure and you begin thrusting in and out of him like a piston, pounding his prostate. The other prisoners hear the familiar sounds of erotic ecstasy and being cheering and jeering at you. Knowing your incestuous affair is being watched and listened to only arouses you further.

You hear the footsteps of guards down the hallway and know that you don't have much time left.

"I'm cumming! Son, I'M CUMMING!" You release a massive flood of thick white cum into your son's rectum as he lets out a loud, high-pitched cry of pleasure and squirts his own load of cum outside the prison bars. It is the last time either of you will ever cum.

You both pant from the intensity of your last lovemaking session as the guards' footsteps grow nearer. You pull your now flaccid cock from your son's anus as the guards appear at your door. They order him to put on his prison jumpsuit. As soon as he is decent, they open the cell door. You try to give him one last kiss on the lips but he is roughly pulled away and the door slammed shut once more.

Neither of you cry. You've both cried so many times in the past few weeks that you have no more tears to shed.

You press your face through the bars and watch as he is led to his death. You see a dark wet spot forming on the seat of his prison uniform. They turn the corner and that is the last you see of him.

You return to your bed with nothing to do but await your own execution. You try praying to God but you don't hear Him answer. Your son believed that God had blessed your love but you are not so sure. All you know is that whether you go to Heaven or Hell, you will be with him. And that is all that matters.

The End