FTM trans guy James always thought he was straight and vanilla, but then he meets gay porn star Hank at the Folsom Street Fair. When Hank invites him over for some kinky daddy-son role-play sex, James pushes his own limits and learns how to please his hot daddy in an orgy of cocksucking, vaginal fisting, and squirting! This smoking hot taboo fetish story is for open-minded adults only! EXCERPT: All that week, James couldn’t stop thinking about Hank. That ultra-masculine, muscular body, and that confidence, that swagger—and, of course, the charming side-smile letting James know it was all in fun. Whenever he masturbated, his thoughts invariably turned to the beads of sweat dripping from Hank’s shoulders. By the end of the week, James was rushing into the men’s room at work to take care of his uncontrollable hard-on. With a knot in his stomach, James decided to take Hank up on his offer. He called, and after a breathy and uncomfortable silence, Hank said, “Would you like to come over sometime, son?” James fell in immediately, feeling like a blithering little kid as he and Hank set a date. On Saturday, James drove to Hank’s place in Oakland. The sun was bright, and the breezes were warm and soft—a perfect golden fall day in the Bay Area. James had expected Hank to live in a punk house or an illegal warehouse co-op, so he was surprised when Hank’s directions sent him down the winding avenues of a quiet, tree-lined residential neighborhood at the base of the foothills. Hank’s neighborhood could have been airlifted in from suburban Ohio. The surreality of it all made James bite his tongue and swallow hard as he parked in Hank’s driveway. Hank’s garage door was open, and a cherry-red muscle car with its hood popped sat inside. The garage smelled like oil and whiskey and leather and man sweat, and James felt his insides tightening and his clit beginning to tingle as he made his way around the side of the gleaming car. Behind the hood, James could see a small television flickering, and the outline of Hank’s shoulder as he curled his biceps with a massive iron weight. He grunted with each curl, a deep-body sound that made James quiver. “Hey there, son,” Hank said as James approached. “Come spend some quality time with Daddy.” A corner of Hank’s garage, invisible from the street, had been set up with a small TV, an assortment of weights, a stack of girly magazines, and an ancient leather lounge chair. A toilet and a sink waited in a closet-sized bathroom off to one side. Hank was wearing a pair of tight orange jogging shorts that showed off the generous outline of his package, a pair of white tube socks, a pair of scuffed weightlifter’s shoes, and nothing else. A thin sheen of sweat gleamed from his muscular body, and James’ mouth went dry as he wondered what it might taste like to lick the salt from Hank’s hairy chest. He sat cross-legged on the floor next to Hank’s weightlifting bench. Hank grunted, putting down the barbell, and stretched out his shoulders. “Daddy, can I oil your muscles again?” James squeaked.