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"Bobby!" I moaned his name again. His velvet ring gripped tighter around my aching shaft as I pounded him deeper into the bedsheets. "Oh, Bobby! Mfh! Bobby, I--ohhhmfh!"

"Fuck me, Robert!" He whimpered out repeatedly with an occasional variation of, "Oh, God! Oh, fuck! Oh, God!"

My fingers wrapped around those perfect hips as I thrusted harder into Bobby, our chorusing pants and the sound of slapping flesh and fur becoming akin to drums in an erotic orchestra. Drool went down my chin with each trembling piston made into my stepson. Or rather, former stepson. Even after two decades of raising him and a mere several months after the divorce finalized, I still viewed the submissive and well-trained cockslut taking me beneath my tailhole as a son. He still viewed me as a father figure too, his dad who bothered to stay and raise him, even after we professed our attraction for each other. Even as I gripped his wiggling tail between thrusts and left trails of slobbering kisses/love bites along his lithe shoulders.

Going faster and faster, my stomach bounced against his lower back, which nearly made me shrivel all inside the younger Doberman. I was old, graying, possessed a small beer gut and semi-decent biceps that couldn't compare to my athletic boy. I almost wonder why he found me attractive at all. I would've slowed down if it weren't for us, I didn't clenching around my cock. As well as Bobby holding onto one of my paws behind him, gripping me tighter with each bucking motion we made. Like jolts of electricity, these distracted me again into enjoying his college-aged body, the beautiful noises produced, and how he felt around my Doberman dick.

I loved him more than anything else in this world.

"D-Daddy, I-I'm about to--nngh!"

"Oh, Bobby! Nmfh, B-Bob...by!"

I clamped my jaws down on the back of his delicious neck, causing Bobby to buck back against my cock as I pushed one more time, and we cried out together. His cries of an intense orgasm were partially suppressed by a convenient pillow near the back of the bed's headboard. Mine were muffled by the taste of his younger flash and recently brushed fur. I almost started to wonder if I'd been too hard before we collapsed in a heap together, with Bobby squirming out of the way in time so my shoulder didn't crush him.

He also popped free from my dogcock during this, causing my spent seed to leak in quantities from his backside facing away from me.

"Oh God," he panted heavily, bewildered and tired. "D-Daddy...Robert...amazing."

"Yeah, Bobby?" I gulped between exhausted pants, muscles aching. "You're gonna be...eheheh, you're gonna be...the fuckin' death of me."

He playfully smacked my shoulder, to which I faked wincing in pain. The younger Doberman snickered like I did, then leaned forward to lick the drool from my chin, then my jawline as his cold nose sniffed my sweaty fur. I giggled like a ticklish doofus at his fingers roaming my sides, squeezing my stomach before rubbing the beer gut. Bobby's teasing grew more intense though as I felt his cock spring back to life, leaking against my calf, as if I'd not just fucked a single intense load out of him and right inside of him.

"Damn, boy!" I exhaled in disbelief. "You really are gonna be the death of me!"

"Why would you say that?" He chuckled midway through licking my Adam's apple, making me groan. "Because I can recharge, or because I got more energy in the reserves?"

"Boy, I'm not your age," I retorted after gathering my breath. "I'm not young like you. I'm not gonna be making you squeal under me again for several hours." Gently holding onto his arms, I looked into those beautiful eyes of his and asked, "Can we...just lie here for a bit? Like this, please?"

It did not take long for Bobby to calm down from his second wind, smiling as he nodded back. "Sure thing, Robert."

The Motel 9 we'd once again booked into didn't come with many amenities. The rooms remained time capsules of the 2000s, but the room we'd been able to book happened to have an upgraded TV. It provided enough channels for me to hop through as Bobby and I lay together in our own sweaty afterglow, catching our breaths and allowing ourselves to enjoy each other's presence. One limp paw held the remote as the other held his on my stomach, rising up and down atop the bare belly my (former!) stepson seemed to love, regardless. How or why, I couldn't tell.

A couple more months had passed since the divorce. His mother remained a literal and figurative bitch, but at least I kept the house. Granted, I'd been cheating on Roxanne with her son before the dissolution of our marriage, but the courts still didn't approve of her evidenced infidelity. So, she moved into a well-furnished apartment near Crossroads City University, so to keep in touch with Bobby. We did our best to remain civil. Hindsight showed how Roxanne only loved the sense of being married, having a security blanket, the idea of giving her son a father figure.

"Robert?"

"Hmmm, yeah Bobby?"

"Do you...believe in accidents?"

I perked my ear at him. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing," he shrugged while staring off into space. "I'm taking this required philosophy class, and our professor's having us write a paper arguing if 'accidents' are just that, or if they're part of fate."

I shifted to look at him. "What do you believe?"

"I think...that there are no accidents," Bobby explained to me, "It wasn't an accident that you fell for Mom, because if you hadn't then...I doubt we would've met."

I laughed. Planting a kiss on his cheek, I pulled Bobby closer to my chest, then made a small decision. Sure, it could be risky, but it beat charging motel rooms to my credit card.

"Bobby," I asked, "will you go out with me to a restaurant sometime?"

"Like a...a date?"

My fangs flashed into a beaming grin. "Exactly like that," I confirmed to him. "A date, for the two of us. What do you say, bud?"

Bobby's reply with a happy kiss told me everything he wanted to say.