Hot Daddies, page 18
“Oh, fuck fuck fuck.” He writhed his hole at me.
My cock properly sheathed and lubed, I squirted lube all over his hole. “This feel good, boy?” I slipped in one finger, then another.
“Sí, sí. Fuck me now. ¡Por favor!”
I angled my cock downward, pulled his hips up and poised to push into his willing ass. I hadn’t been this hard in years. “You okay, son?”
“Yes! Fuck me. Hard. I don’t care. Just fuck me!”
“Just promise me one thing, son. Don’t touch yourself. I wanna fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until you shoot.”
“Oh, man…promise!”
There is an advantage to being older: it takes me a longer time to shoot than it used to, and I can fuck longer than younger tops who haven’t learned the art of self-control. I gripped his hips and thrust in slowly, withdrew, thrust again, pushing the tip of my cock upward and downward and sideways, probing ever deeper.
“Fuck. You’re so hard!”
“That’s because you’ve made me so damn proud, boy.” Then I rode his hole fast and ferociously. “If this cock could sing, it’d be chorusing praise for you to the world. There’s no better boy than you.”
“Oh,” he moaned softly. “Thank you, papi.”
“No need to thank me, son. You did all the hard work. I’m thanking you for making me so damn proud.”
I continued thrusting, alternating slow with fast and staccato. My cock was right at home in his hole.
“Do your old man a favor, will ya?”
“What?”
“Think of your ass muscles like your fist. Squeeze and let go. Talk to me with your asshole, boy.”
Instantly, it became a whole new mouth devouring my cock. Sometimes he squeezed hard when I rammed in; sometimes he didn’t. He continued whispering in Spanish. I didn’t know the language, but I resolved then and there that I would learn it for my boy. He’d gone through way too much on my behalf, and he deserved at least that much from me. He needed respect more than anything.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he gasped. “I’m…I’m close, papi.”
“How should I fuck you now?”
“Fast. Hard.”
“You got it, son!”
He positioned himself firmly against the wall as I showed his hole no mercy. Miraculously, he was able to time the clenching of his sphincter with my thrusts. We were truly one, communicating in the most intimate language of all, and it had no words. He was telling me how much he needed me inside him, and I was telling him how much I needed to be inside him. No translation needed. I rammed and bammed against his hole, and his cheeks, though muscular, jostled from my thrusts. I slapped his butt.
“DADDDDDDDD!!!” he grunted. His body shook helplessly.
I leaned forward and grabbed him from behind. He was a rag doll flopping in my arms, still impaled on my cock.
“Fuck,” he gasped at last. “That was the best fuck of my life.”
“Good. But I’m not done yet.” I guided him back against the wall. “You have to shoot one more time.”
“Dad, can I suck your cock? ¿Por favor?”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I reluctantly withdrew and pulled the condom off my cock. It flopped upward against my belly.
“Wow,” he said as he went down to his knees. “I didn’t think your cock would be this beautiful.”
“It’d feel more beautiful in your mouth, boy.”
He slurped so enthusiastically and noisily, tugging at my balls and teasing my hole with just his dry fingertips, that I grabbed the back of his head. “Don’t move, son.” He held himself still as I bucketed a piston of sperm into his mouth. It had been a long time since I had cum so much all at once. My cum dribbled out the corners of his mouth.
Fuck, so hot, I thought. I pulled him up and opened my mouth. “Son, feed me your old man’s cum.”
He leaned close to my face.
The pearly whiteness of my cum coated his tongue. I couldn’t believe that it was that thick!
I opened my mouth even wider.
He spit my cum to the back of my throat.
I pulled his mouth closer and kissed him. He reciprocated. We couldn’t stop. I encouraged his hands to explore my body, and then I sucked his fingers while staring into his eyes. He looked like he was in heaven.
“Wanna make your Daddy real proud? Fuck him and show him what a man you are.”
His voice cracked. “Really? You want me to fuck you?”
“Of course. But first I’m gonna get you nice and hard.” I gave him a quick kiss on the lips before I slid down to my knees and took his semihard cock into my mouth.
“Wait, wait.”
“Why?”
“I have to go pee.”
“So?” I encircled the tip of his cock gently and brought my hands upward to his pectorals. I slowly rubbed the muscle of his chest in circular motions.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he whispered. He struggled to stay soft enough to pee.
I slowed the pace of my hands and he slowed his breathing. His eyes were closed. I stopped moving altogether, my mouth steady around the tip of his cock.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, his piss warmed my mouth and throat, a tentative trickle at first, before he let go a flood of golden nectar. I didn’t lose a single drop. My boy needed to know how special he was.
He pulled out his limp cock. “You okay, son?” I asked.
“Fuck. That was like the greatest feeling in the world.”
“Good! I still want to make you cum a third time.”
“Are you for real?”
“I told you I wanted to make you proud, right? It’s your turn to make me proud.”
I returned to his cock, which plumped up nicely in almost no time. Ah, the joys of youth!
He babbled about how hot it was to let go of his piss like that, how he’d never done that before, how he’d seen online clips of guys doing that, how he was too afraid to ask to try it—
“Stop right there, young Mr. Martinez. Don’t ever think that I’ll judge you differently because of your kinky fantasies. In fact, I’ll probably indulge the ones you know and teach you more!”
“Yes, Dad. Thank you, Dad.”
“Good!” I resumed sucking his cock, but he pulled away. “What?”
“I wanna eat out your hole.”
“Thought you’d never ask!”
I took his place against the wall. I wasn’t prepared for the intense assault. There was no foreplay; he was all tongue-inasshole. If his fast and furious rimming was any indication of his thrusting style, he was gonna ride my ass hard. It was going to be so easy for me to open up my hole for him; I had had forty years of all sorts of cocks and toys pushed up my back door. Rico gasped at how responsive my ass was to his lips.
“Go ahead and fuck me. It’s your birthright.” I listened to the crinkle of a condom wrapper being torn open. I turned to see his glistening erection, straining inside the thin rubber. I lathered lube over his cock as I kissed my beautiful boy, and then I took one of his hands and turned his palm upright. I spat. “Rub your Daddy’s spit into my hole and breed me.” I spread my legs and planted my hands against the wall.
His fingertips clutched my hip bones. Before I knew it, he was all the way in. The bristle of his pubes scratched my ass. I flexed butt muscles around his rod. “Oh, yeah. Go ahead and breed your Daddy like a bitch.”
“Oh, papi,” he grunted. “Te amo.”
I balanced myself against him with one hand on the wall. With the other, I grabbed one of his hands from my hip and laved it with kisses. “You’re my boy, my beautiful, handsome boy,” I whispered.
As he fucked me, I felt the quivers tremble from his hands. I imagined him thinking about all the times he’d jacked over me, how long he’d waited for this moment. He was a sweet, sweet fucker. Usually, when a top fucks me, there’s nothing but a cock in an ass, nothing genuine, no connection. Who’d have thought a twenty-five-year-old youth could make me feel this way? He was quiet, but his cock spoke volumes. It was telling me how much it had wanted me, how many years had passed since he first saw me in the lecture hall, how much he needed me. His swelling cock was as hot as a poker, ramming me furiously, seeking the fire exit. He was burning. I clamped down hard on his cock. “Fuck me harder, son! Harder!” I suddenly relaxed my ass muscles.
The sweet sensation of cum jetting against the condom’s tip reverberated against my prostate. Wow! That hasn’t happened since I stopped barebacking back in the eighties. I wasn’t completely hard yet—he had cum too quickly. But I didn’t care…after all, he was thirty-five years younger than me.
He collapsed forward and snaked his arms around me as he spasmed deeper inside me. I tightened my asslips again. I didn’t want to let him go.
I took one of his hands and stroked my beard against it.
When his breathing returned to normal, I said, “You know something?”
“What?”
“You’ve taught me a great lesson tonight. I never cared for younger men, but I think you’ll make an exceptional teacher.”
“Me?” He pulled out, his soft cock flopping against my lower back.
I turned around. “Yes, you.”
He looked at me curiously.
“You’ve taught me about what being a Daddy—something that once repulsed me—means. Tonight showed me how much I can learn from my boy.” I unrolled the condom off his cock and pushed it inside out. “And I need to eat his cum for homework.” I licked precious pearls off the latex. “Now, that’s a real midnight snack.”
He laughed.
Our clothes were strewn all over the foyer. I pointed to his shirt. “Take that off. I think your Dad’s gonna like what he sees underneath.”
His nipples look like perfectly melted Hershey’s kisses.
“How about we go upstairs and shower?”
“Show me the way, and I’m yours.” He pointed to the stairs. “Professor Papi?”
“How do you say son in Spanish?”
“Hijo.”
I took his hand and beamed. “Let’s go, my hijo.”
IT’S MY JOB
Xan West
It’s my job to stand still and take it for Daddy. I don’t have to like it. I just have to stay standing, relatively still, and take whatever he wants to dish out. That’s what boys do, he says, that’s how you build a boy up. His job is to teach me how to be a man. Just like my job is to stand still and take it for Daddy.
Tonight he told me to lay out his leather. It’s my job to take care of Daddy’s gear. I know every piece intimately. He’s wearing the chaps I just cleaned yesterday. His large furry belly hangs over them and my cheek aches to rub against it. The buttery leather is comfort to me, as much Daddy as his breath on my skin.
The belt he’s wearing was passed from one man in his family to the next, on down to him. It is old and strong, and it has drawn my blood. When I hold it in my hands, it radiates with his strength. He has told me that when I am ready he will pass it to me.
The leather jock he wears was a gift from his Daddy. It has taken on his scent. Even after I clean it, it still smells of him, of musk and fur. The gloves he is wearing know my skin well. They are molded to his hands, a gift from his first boy, who made them specifically for him. My body is attuned to them. They graze my cheek and my lips automatically part, already tasting a mix of leather and Daddy so precious I just want to open myself up to worship.
And his boots. Oh, his boots. Corcs, they’re a gift from his leather brother. Every boy that Daddy has taken in, from stray to slave, has fed these boots, with tears, fear, saliva and cum. Daddy’s boots are magic. Home is Daddy’s boots: Cleaning them. Conditioning them. Polishing them until they gleam. Walking behind them, my attention focused on being exactly at his heel. Sitting on the floor before them. Resting my cheek on them. Writhing on the floor under them. Being kicked by them. Feeding them. When I am attending to Daddy’s boots, I know who I am.
He radiates purpose as he walks toward me in those boots, and suddenly I can’t breathe. One hand grasps my throat and the other holds my chin. My lips part, my eyes widen.
“You going to be good for me, boy?”
His hand leaves my throat. I can think again.
“Yes, Daddy.”
His hand is so fast I am caught off guard by the slap to my face.
“You going to stay still for Daddy?”
Slap.
“Yes, Daddy.”
He slaps me repeatedly, his eyes holding mine as he talks.
“Make me proud, cub. Show me how strong you can be. A good boy can take anything and stay on his feet. I know you can do this for me.”
I have stopped breathing. I am mesmerized by him.
“It’s your job to stand still and take it for Daddy.”
He slaps me once more and pauses.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, my voice trembling.
He kicks my feet apart and slams me into the wall. His weight feels so good. He slams me again, harder, thrusting my breath out. It feels so safe here, pressed up against the wall by Daddy.
The pain is not important. It is just a way to illuminate the path. It’s important that my pain brings him joy. I sense it filling him as he begins to punch my pecs. He is radiating gladness, and I soak it in with every thrust of pain. There is something about the intensity of getting punched so near my heart, right by my throat and face, that makes me cry every time.
“That’s it, boy,” he says. “Cry for me.”
He is relentless, driving into me, pushing me. The tears are flowing down my face. He pauses to lick them from my cheeks, wrapping his hand over my nose and mouth, taking my breath and filling my senses with leather.
“Good boy. Feed Daddy your tears,” he growls.
Then he lets me breathe. He pulls on his SAP gloves, and the lead shot drives into me, challenging me to remain still for him. He smells different when he’s hurting me, cold steel wrapped in Daddy-soaked leather. I breathe in, filling my nose with him, knowing it will make my heart race. The pain wraps around me, holding me close and warm.
Daddy turns me around and begins to kick me. My ass and thighs are on fire. I breathe in pain, exhale fear, and push my boots into the ground. It’s my job to stand still and take it. I narrow my focus, concentrating on linking the soles of my boots to the floor with every blow. I can do this. I want him to be proud of me. As his boots connect with my thighs, I focus on riding the energy through my boots into the ground. I will please him.
He pulls out his police slap and begins to pound it into my thighs like a sledgehammer, the lead shot ramming into me. It pounds me hard, and my dick begins to throb. He’s hitting that spot where it starts to translate to sex. I am not a masochist, and there are very few intense sensations that feel like anything but pain. It is pure sex. My lips part, and I start groaning. It is all I can do not to bend over and beg him to fuck me now. I take each blow into my cock, feeling it swell until it seems like it’s going to burst.
“You like that, don’t you, boy? You like getting your ass pounded like a good little faggot. You wish my dick was in your ass right now, don’t you, boy? This isn’t about you. This is about getting me off, so don’t expect I’m going to pay any attention to that hardening cock of yours, boy. The only dick you should be concerned with is this one.”
He rams his dick against my ass, pushing my face into the wall, his hand on the back of my neck, holding it still.
“This dick is the one you should be focused on, boy.”
He pulls back and picks up his favorite cat. It slams into my back, and I am utterly still: no breath; no movement. He begins to lay into me. The rhythm is hypnotic; fire dances along my skin as the cat drives into me. The cowhide is thin and braided, and the knotted tips feel like they are slicing me open. Waves of reddish-orange pain wash over my vision. My feet are planted. I will not move. I am helpless against the pain, lightning so strong it almost knocks me over. I am so small in the face of it. Nothing I can do will stop it. I stand still and take it, and it transforms me. I am taking it for Daddy.
I register a shift and know he has taken up his quirt. It is dedicated to me. It has drawn my blood and it will tonight. I gladly give myself to Daddy, tears, cum, fear, blood and all. The first wound opens and I hear his growl as he continues to slice me with two thin strips of leather.
“Everything you have is mine. I made you and I will hurt you, bleed you, eat you and fuck you as I please. That’s it, boy. Bleed for Daddy.”
We share blood, Daddy and I. In that way, we make real the relationship we have created. The intensity of that sharing is what wraps around my neck and connects me to him. It is the deepest sense of belonging I know, to be Daddy’s boy, to feed him in all of his hungers. It takes everything within me to stay still for Daddy as he lays down his quirt and starts licking along my skin, drinking me in with his delicious mouth. I hold my breath with the effort, almost trembling with gladness. I can hear his boots on the floor as he walks away.
“Belly on the floor. Get your mouth over here, boy.”
It’s my job to use my mouth to please Daddy. I crawl on my belly toward him. He is sitting in his favorite chair.
“Get your mouth on my boot, boy. Show me some appreciation for all the attention you are getting tonight.”
I breathe in the scent of his boot and begin to lick. Nothing tastes like Daddy’s boots. Electric power fills them, and it surges through me as I worship. I can’t help writhing at the feel of it. This is my place. I belong on the floor at Daddy’s feet, my mouth on his boot. I know exactly what my job is, and that keeps me grounded.
All of me is centered around his boot: the texture of the leather; the taste of the polish and saddle soap, with undertones of piss and cum and tears worked in over the years. I savor it all with every stroke of my tongue.
“That’s it, boy. It’s your job to use your mouth to please Daddy. Show me how much you want to please me. Make me feel your mouth, boy.”
His other boot comes to rest on the back of my neck, driving my mouth into his boot, making me writhe, my cock pulsing as it rubs against the floor. Daddy groans as I press my mouth onto the toe, taking it in like a cock, sucking on it. His other boot forces me onto it in a rhythm of his choosing, as I strain to take him in.
