The living room glowed with the flicker of the Madden screen, taco wrappers strewn across the coffee table as Jake’s virtual quarterback dodged Carlos’s defense. Mike sprawled on the couch, Jeff’s cock a light weight in his pants, grinning as his crew bantered—day winding down in a haze of teenage ease. Jeff lounged beside him, hairy forearms crossed, beard glinting as he tossed a quip at Jake.
"Kid, your plays are all flash—Carlos’ll beat you yet." The boys laughed, the vibe loose and warm, Jeff easily filling the role of cool dad.
Jake paused the game, gap-toothed grin flashing as he turned to Mike. "Dude, this is too good—let’s sleep over. Crash here. Your dad’s chill, right?" Carlos nodded, buzzcut head tilting. "Yeah, beats studying alone—my books can wait. You in, Mr. Parker?"
Mike smirked, catching Jeff’s eye—the swapped dynamic a silent spark between them. "Up to Dad—whaddaya say, old man? Can the boys stay?" His tone teased, leaning into the 16-year-old role, but his pulse kicked up—Jeff thriving as the hairy, bearded dad turned him on hard.
Jeff grinned, rubbing his scruff, the 38-year-old authority settling over him like a cloak. "Sleepover, huh? I’m good with it—house is yours. But your parents gotta sign off—call ‘em, let’s make it legit." He leaned back, hairy legs stretching, voice steady—a dad move he owned, and Mike’s lust flared, the submission to this swapped role igniting.
Jake fished out his phone, dialing fast. "My old man’s a pushover—he’ll cave." Carlos grabbed his, muttering, "Mine’s stricter—hope he’s in a mood." The calls connected, and Jake’s dad picked up first, voice gruff through the speaker. "Yeah, Jake—what’s this now?"
"Hey, Dad—crashing at Mike’s, cool with you? His dad’s here," Jake said, tossing the phone to Jeff like it was nothing. Jeff caught it, hairy hand steady, and leaned in, voice dropping smooth. "Hey, Tom—this is Jeff Parker, Mike’s dad. Boys want a sleepover—games, tacos, the usual. I’ve got ‘em covered, they’ll be good. That work for you?"
Tom chuckled, rough but easy. "Jeff, huh? Heard you’re the architect guy—Mike’s a lucky kid. Yeah, Jake’s fine—keep him outta trouble, alright? Thanks, man." Jeff grinned, beard twitching. "No trouble here—got it handled. Night, Tom." The call clicked off, and Jake whooped, "Told ya—easy!"
Carlos’s turn hit, and his dad’s voice came through—deeper, clipped. "Carlos, what’s this? You’re supposed to study." Carlos winced, passing the phone. "Dad, it’s Mike’s place—his dad’s cool with it. Talk to him." Jeff took it, hairy fingers wrapping the device, and his tone shifted—calm, firm, a dad-to-dad vibe. "Hey, Luis—this is Jeff Parker. Boys are hanging here, sleepover plan. I’m home, keeping an eye—they’ll hit the books tomorrow. Cool with you?"
Luis paused, then softened. "Jeff—heard about you, big shot downtown. Carlos needs discipline, but if you’re on it, I trust you. He’s yours—make sure he’s up early. Appreciate it." Jeff nodded, voice warm. "He’s a good kid—up by eight, promise. Take care, Luis." The line cut, and Carlos exhaled, grinning. "Damn, Mr. Parker—you’re smooth."
Jeff tossed the phone back, hairy arms flexing as he stood, grinning at Mike. "Alright, you’re set—sleepover’s on. Don’t wreck my house, or I’ll ground you all." He wiggled his thick fingers, and the boys laughed, Carlos adding, "Seriously—thanks, man."
Mike watched, stolen teen cock tenting his pants—Jeff handling those calls, flawless, commanding respect from dads who’d once been Mike's peers, now bowing to his son's stolen masculinity. The hairy forearms, the beard, that steady voice—it was Jeff thriving, king of this swapped world, and Mike’s submission drove it home. He’d given up his maturity—hair, cock, perceived years—and Jeff wore it like a fucking crown, turning Mike on harder than he’d admit. Jeff caught his eye, a smirk flashing—fucking hot bastard—and Mike shifted, Jeff’s young dick stirring, lust simmering beneath his grin.