Date: Fri, 1 Jan 2021 13:40:19 -0800 From: Master Dominic Subject: Letting My Dad Use My Butt LETTING MY DAD USE MY BUTT My dad and I have this secret game we play. At night, after he tucks me in, I always lie awake, staring at my bedside clock. At 9:45, I know he'll be back, so I get out of bed and pretend to have fallen on the floor. At 10PM sharp, the door creaks open and he reappears. I'm usually facing away from him. I can hear him approaching, the way he groans as he stoops down behind me. He places his hands on my hips, lifting them a little as he scoots closer. Dad pretends he's picking me up, to get me back in bed. Sometimes he teases me. "How many times do I have to tuck you in twice?" I say nothing. I pretend I'm a dead body. Dad has to lift harder. He brings his hips close, pressing his crotch against my butt. I can feel his erection. It's long and thick, pressing into the whole length of my butt crack. He groans a little more when he does that, sometimes swearing under his breath. "You make this so hard," he will say, pretending it's the effort of lifting me that's making him breathe heavier. Dad lifts my hips with more force, pressing my plump butt harder against his erection. He's gotten ready for bed, dressed only in his boxers. His boner, sheathed in one layer of cotton, pushes my pajama bottoms into my crack. Dad pulls my hips back, dragging my face and shoulders across the carpet, as my hips lift, knees bent under me. My butt cheeks spread wide, that mammoth erection wedged between them. "You're so heavy," Dad will say, with broken breath. "You won't help me at all, will you?" I say nothing. I know he likes this game, when I play completely dead, when my whole body is limp and his to use. I don't even moan, despite the deep satisfaction I get from the pressure against my butthole. I'm stiff too. My little prick is nowhere near as big as Dad's, but it's hard as his. Once Dad has my hips all the way up and my thighs folded on my lower legs, he tries to lift me. He pushes forward, pressing his rock-hard erection so hard against my hole I can feel it pucker open. He pushes forward, trying to lift with those hands still firm on my hips. He tries several times, trying and failing, humping in a steady rhythm. "You're so heavy," he'll say a second time. "I wish you'd help." He always says this, as his breathing's getting more ragged. I always say nothing, do nothing. I know Dad likes this. I know he likes having my butt spread wide around his cock, nothing but two layers of fabric between us. He says those words to ease his conscience. He says them, knowing I won't move a muscle, knowing my butt and my body are his. He slows his attempts. He presses harder, pressing his erection in deeper, holding it there long seconds. "Oh God, I cant..." he'll say, as his pressing slows. I can feel his erection twitching in the tight space against my butthole. He's pressing my hips down so hard against his boner I all but feel he's entering me. "Can't lift you..." his words come as afterthought. I can feel warm wetness against my pajamas, his cock twitching to a steady rhythm. He holds me, those loving fatherly hands on my hips, squeezing the flesh hard. His dick pulses and that warm wetness spreads. He'll stay locked against me, unmoving, for a while. I sometimes count the number of times his dick throbs. Sometimes it's twenty, sometimes it's thirty. Those heavy throbs die down to slower on, until Dad's dick is as still as him. Still hard, he'll press it against me, saying nothing, holding my hips against him. The whole length of my butt crack feels sticky and wet. Finally, he'll pick me up, hips still against mine, with no effort, lifting me into the bed. He'll groan as though it takes effort. He drops me against the mattress then turns me over, tucking me back in. I always stare at his crotch. Sometimes, in the hall light, I can see a dark wet spot staining all over the upper half. My wet butt presses into my bed sheets. "Stay in bed this time," he says, then leaves me in the dark, closing the door. The moment he's gone, I slip my pajama bottoms off. I bring them to my face, sniffing. The distinctive, punky smell is always the same. I always think of it as Dad's special man smell, the smell he leaves behind on me after our game. My prick is still hard. Pressing the stinky pajamas against my nose with one hand, I touch my dick with the other. I rub up and down, gripping the base, making pressure there, just like Dad's dick against my butt. I sniff deep. Sometimes I'll even lick the fabric. It tastes sour, slightly salty. It's an attack on my senses, my hand working up and down my little prick, tingles building there. It all builds up. I imagine Dad going stiff against me, telling me he can't lift me anymore, his dick twitching. Something like a firework goes off in my shaft. Warm fluid spray across my belly, sometimes hitting my chest. It comes out in fast pulses, fast like the pulses from Dad's dick. Sometimes I taste it. It has that salty tang like Dad's, but it's sweeter. I run my fingers through it and sniff it too. Dad's is so much more intense than mine, but it has the same punky aroma. This has been our game for a long time. I can't count the number of time I've had to take my pajamas off because of how soaked through they've been, nor the number of times I've stroked the same kind of sticky fluid from my own dick. I really want Dad to do more. But I'm terrified of what will happen, if I try to make it into more than a game. I'm terrified he'll stop, never touch me again. We've been isolated in our home all winter now. It's just three of us, Dad, my older brother, and me. We have nowhere to go but the halls and rooms of our modest sized house. Lately Dad's been rougher in our games. He doesn't bother to pretend he's lifting me. He humps firmly against my butt, swearing several times. When he erupts against me, he all but soaks my pajamas down to the thighs. "You can get in bed on your own," he'll say, after his cock's finished its throbbing. He'll leave me still on the floor. More than anything now, I want him to do more to me. Here, cut off from the outside world, I need my Dad's loving arms around me. I don't like how he always leaves when he's finished. I wish I could take his guilt away, somehow... It's Christmas Eve, and I have a plan. I really hope it works. Last night, when Dad was working in his office downstairs, I snuck into his room and cut a slit in the front of his boxers I knew he would wear today. I was careful about how I cut it. There's a seam down the front, so I was sure to snip the threads sewing it together. If he has boner, the seam would spread open around it. If he really wanted, he cold pull the boxers up and his dick would slip free. But if not, I made sure it wasn't too wide, so he could pretend it wasn't there. I know I have to be so careful with this. If Dad suspects I did it, he might get mad, or he might think I'm on to him and stop coming to play these games. I did the same thing to my pajamas. These are the ones I've worn since I was a kid. They still fit me because I haven't grown much. They're the tightest in the butt, except the fabric has some stretch to it. Every time Dad presses his erection against them, they stretch easily, sliding deep into my crack. Except now, with the careful cuts I made to the seams, when Dad pulls my hips up, they'll spread open a little. I tried it out. This morning, I got on the carpet, on hands and knees, and pressed my face against the carpet. I bent my hips, making my cheeks spread wide. I pressed my fingers against the crack, probing. The fabric spread open right around my hole. I touched my butt, pressing against the sensitive ring a few times. How badly I wished Dad would touch run his fingers over my hole. He could even stick his dick right inside me all the way if he wanted. I don't care what he does. I just want him to touch me more. I want him to use me, stay with me longer, not run away. I want him to know in this game, there are no lines he can't cross with me. Christmas Eve flies by and before I know it, Dad's tucking me into bed. He's still dressed from the day. Dad always goes to his room after, and when he comes back at 10PM, in his boxers, he's ready for sleep. Every night after he's emptied himself in those boxers, he goes straight to sleep. Today as he tucks me in, I can see there's lots of tension in him. I'm not sure if he knows about the slit I cut in his boxers, or if it's just us being cooped up in the house with no family visiting for Christmas. "Now, you stay in bed this time," he says sternly. "When I come back, I don't want to see you on the floor again." He says this many times when he tucks me in. I play along. "I don't know what you're talking about." "I shouldn't have to come in and put you back in bed, after this." "I always fall asleep in minutes, Dad." "You don't remember how you fall out of bed every night?" "Nope," I say. There's a look in his eyes, as he glances away briefly. I imagine it must be guilt, or maybe fear. Dad knows better, of course. He's smart. He knows I know very well what we do, but this is how it is. We never talk about it. That's part of the game. He looks at me. "If I give you a good kiss, does that mean you'll stay in bed this time?" "Yes!" I say. "Do you mean it?" I nod to him. He's never offered a kiss before, not this way. "On the lips? Is that all right?" I pucker my mouth, inviting him. He closes the distance in a heartbeat, his lips on top of mine. It's a tender kissing, lasting longer than a peck. Dad pulls back, but then stops, out lips millimeters apart. "Extra, to keep you in bed," he says, a mere whisper. He brings those lips back. I open my mouth, and his lips follow mine. It's like the kinds of kisses he would give Mom when she was still alive. I feel so special as my dad kisses me with so much love. Again our lips part, and again he freezes, not pulling away. "Maybe more for good measure," he says. I keep my mouth open, his lips melting against mine as he presses close again. This time he runs his tongue over my lips, swirling in a circular motion. I meet his tongue with mine. He pulls back. My breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding as I don't dare say a thing, don't dare scare him away. "Last one," he says. Our lips lock again, and this time there's no restraint to Dad. He plunges his manly tongue into my mouth, and I meet it with mine. His bristly stubble presses against my smooth cheeks. He kisses with so much passion, I wonder if he's thinking of Mom right now... Finally, he pulls back. "I better not find you on the floor later," he says. "I promise, Dad. I'll go right to sleep." He leaves me. I wait a few minutes, before I rise. I hesitate at first. He's never kissed me like that before. I know he'll come and check on me. He always does. And if he finds me, will he use my promise against me? Will this be the end of everything? I get into the familiar position, lying face down, my butt sticking up a little. I don't know what Dad's going to do to me, what he's going to say...but I know I can't go on anymore with him leaving every time in his guilt. My heart beats hard. I feel so tense, knowing this could also be the end of everything I have with dad. The door creaks open. There are no footsteps. The hallway light shines in the bedroom as Dad watches me. I wait, heart thudding. The room goes dark, as Dad closes the door slowly. Finally, I hear his footsteps across the carpet, as he approaches. There's no groaning as he hovers over me. I wait for his hands to touch my hips, but instead he remains standing. "I thought we had an agreement." I say nothing. I'm asleep, after all. "Are you really asleep right now?" I don't move. I sure hope Dad can't hear my pounding heart as much as I do. Finally, I feel his hands on my hips. He grips each one, making a fist around each butt cheek, massaging. "I don't believe you're really asleep," he says. "Come on, get up." He tugs at my hips. I make sure not to give him any assistance. I'm like a dead body, as he pulls my hips toward him, my face and shoulders drag over the carpet. There's force in his tugging this time. He has my hips all the way up in one pull, knees bent under me and cheeks spreading wide. I can feel the warm room air over my butthole where the pajama seam parts. He doesn't press his crotch against me. Still, he restrains his groaning, keeps his breath even. "I did warn you to stay in bed," he says, sounding stern. "You can't blame me for having to make sure you behave." I play dead. I don't dare move a muscle. Finally, Dad presses his erection between my cheeks. I feel the warmth of skin on skin. All the groaning he'd held back, he lets it out in a long, drawn-out note as he thrusts his length hard against me. My hole spreads open around the thick base of his shaft. "Something is wrong with these," he says, pulling at each side of my pajamas. "Looks like both our clothes broke today. Will have to be quick..." Dad keeps his dick buried deep inside my crack, skin on skin, as he pulls my hips back further, driving them down on his. He tugs my hips down as far as they can go, my legs folded tight beneath me. "You make this so hard..." he says, breathing ragged. He's pulling at me rhythmically, pretending he's trying to lift me up. "You little shit," he says. "You were supposed to listen." His breathing is getting heavy. He groans again in one of those deep manly notes. He's swearing now, under his breath. "Can't blame me for this. Can't...ohhh..." His whole body seems to tremble, as his thrusting slows and then he presses hard, so hard it feels like he's spreading my asshole open. I feel that familiar twitch, his cock throbbing as all his fatherly fluid comes out. But this time, it sprays all over my shoulders. Warm, wet drops splatter over my ribs, my back. Dad makes fists with his hands, tugging the elastic band of my pajamas down a bit, down against his erection. I can tell he wants to pull them right off, but he doesn't dare go too far. His cock throbs, and every time I feel a new splash of warmth, somewhere on my back. Thirty-one throbs I count. My heart is still pounding. This is where Dad feels guilty, I know. I don't know what he's going to say now, if this might be the last time he'll ever do anything with me. Dad doesn't lift me this time. He backs away, leaving my butt feeling so empty without that warm length pressed against it. He leaves my room. I lay here, waiting, wondering why he didn't put me back in bed. Should I get up? The warm fluid from his dick is trailing down my ribcage. Some of it is running along my right nipple. I'd like to run my fingers through it, taste it, the way I sometimes taste mine. It's like a treasure, having Dad's juices fresh, on my skin, not soaked into my pajamas where I can only imagine what it would taste like the moment it coms out. Dad returns. He leans down behind me again. He has a wet cloth. He wipes it over my back, and my ribs, removing all traces of those juices I cherish so much. Instead of warm and sticky, he leaves me cold and damp. Then, finished, he lifts me from behind. His dick is still stiff, sticking out from the slit I made in his boxers, wedged between my cheeks. He sets me down, turns me around, and tucks me in again. I keep my eyes closed, pretending to sleep. He kisses me on the forehead. Then, he brings his lips to my ear. "You'll have to behave. Your Daddy can't help himself." After he goes to bed, I sneak into Dad's dressing room. He has his clothes laid out. There's a new pair of boxers. I get my scissors and work at the seams. I spread them wider, from crotch to elastic band. The next day, I also widen the seam in my pajamas. I spread it all the way up the crack, from elastic band all the way to my crotch. It's Christmas Dad. Dad says nothing in the morning, as we open presents with my older brother. We watch movies, eat snacks, and all cuddle to either side of Dad on the couch after dinner. You'd never think we are anything but a normal family. Even my brother would never suspect that Dad and I have a secret game we play. The night comes and Dad is tucking me in again. He gets that look of guilt in his eyes once more. "You were supposed to stay in bed last night," he says. "You promised." "Didn't I?" I say, giving him an innocent look. Dad looks at me, frowning. I can tell he is doing a lot of quick thinking. "You really do fall out. Every night, I have to put you back in bed." "Really?" "Yes, really. You don't remember? You're so heavy, I have to practically drag you from the carpet." My erection throbs with a sudden tingle. "I'm glad you look after me, Dad." He ruffles my hair. "You know I won't hurt you, right?" "Yeah, I know. I trust you with anything." "Good." He leans forward and kisses my forehead, the way he usually kisses me goodnight. "No need for a real kiss. Unless you really want one." I pretend not to be excited by that. "Only if you insist." Dad appears to think it over. "Maybe another night. You did promise to stay in bed, so I'll have to see if you keep up your end of the bargain." He leaves. I wait a short while, watching my clock. My dick is very stiff tonight, almost like it's begging me to touch it. I resist. When it's time, I crawl out of the covers, traipsing to my usual spot. I sprawl out there, appearing to have fallen. The back of my pajamas spread open like a flap. If the hall light shines on me, Dad won't be able to ignore the fact that my bare ass is wide and exposed for him. He won't be able to ignore the way his boxers are open for his erection. My cock is throbbing where I press it against the carpet. I hump down there a little, until the door creaks open. I freeze, going limp. Time to play dead. The door closes quickly. Dad doesn't hesitate this time. In seconds, his hands are firmly on my butt cheeks. He's massaging there, groaning low. He's squatting down behind me, I can tell, because his dick is hovering right over my crack. He grabs my hips firmly, pulling me back. My pajamas spread wide open, revealing the entirety of my butt crack. Dad's cock presses hard and free there in that smooth depth. Once he has me all the way up, he pulls back. My hole is gaping for him, begging for that erection to press against it again. "Have to take severe measures," he says. It sounds like he's spitting. "Make sure you stay in bed for good." More of that spit sound. Dad groans, and I wonder why, until I feel a sharp pressure right in my butthole. It's wet, and though it hurts, I know as soon as I hear Dad groaning sharp that it's his dick, wet with his spit. He's trying to shove it inside my butt. Only that knowledge turns the pain into sheer excitement. I've never felt so much stretch, as Dad drive forward, that slick wet length sliding in. He's so big, and my butt is so tight. He shouldn't even fit, but his big dick slips inside me. I hold in the moan I want to make, reminding myself I'm supposed to be asleep, if I break the roleplay this all ends. Dad's hips press against mine. His curly pubes tickle the skin around my hole. He pulls my hips down hard, pressing in as far as he can go. He keeps his dick there deep inside me. "Let's see if we can get you up now..." he says. Dad pulls at my hips. He keeps his dick in me all the way. It's just like our game, except now he's got his dick plugged right into my butt. He tried to lift me, each time moving my hips back with his hips, then forward. That back-and-forth movement, with his cock buried inside, gets him excited fast. He's breathing ragged again. "Oh fuck, so hard...you're so heavy..." He tenses up, pulling hard on me. There's no more moving back and forth. He stops our hips in place and he pulls hard, and this time as his erection starts its rhythmic throbbing, I feel that pulse deep in my ass. I wonder what happens to all that manly fluid he lets out, now that his dick is inside my butt instead. He throbs and throbs, twenty-nine times. He holds me solidly against his body, still unmoving. He lets up on his grip. Slowly, he slides his hips back. My ass shivers with a strange sensation, as he draws his dick out. I feel so much more empty than when he's stopped from just pressing his erection against my hole. I want him to put it back in, to keep it there, anything but this terrible emptiness. This time, he picks me up, dick half-stiff, pressed against my crack, takes me straight to the bed, without leaving. He sets me on the bed, turns me over, and tucks me in. Again, after kissing my forehead, he whispers in my ear: "I'll have to watch you fall asleep next time. We have to stop this from happening." He leaves and closes the door. As soon as it latches, I take my pajamas off. I bend my legs up, reaching down between my legs, fingers against my hole. Where did all Dad's fluids go? I half expect myself to be all wet down there, but instead I'm mostly dry. I think about all that wet juice inside me, trapped with nowhere to go. One hand on my asshole, I stroke my cock with the other. I grip the base of my dick, pressing hard, hard like Dad's cock presses against me. I wet two of my fingers and slide them in and out of my hole. Tingles rush up and down my dick. My fingers in my butt feel extra wet now. Something thick and sticky is mixing with them. I slide in deeper, and more of that thick fluid comes out. It's Dad's sticky juice. I slide in more now, still stroking my dick, so close to making my own sticky juice. More thick wet gobs emerge on my fingers. I plunge them in, all the way to the knuckles. I wriggle them inside, wanting to get every bit of Dad's juices out. My little cock is so so close to rupturing. I massage my hands over the shaft, hard and fast. Withdrawing my fingers from my ass, I bring them finally to my mouth. There's a stink of ass, but the smell of Dad's pungent juice overpowers it. I lick my fingers. The traces of Dad's juices have a strong, sour taste. I wish I could drink them, right out of his dick. But I relish this privilege, even if my fingers are coated with the insides of my dirty ass. I lick every inch of them. I don't swallow any of it. I feel drunk on the potent taste of Dad's juice. Intense tingles erupt in my dick and my own juice comes out. Some of it hits my chin. I've got both wet fingers in my mouth, sucking them like they're a hard dick. My cock stops shooting out its liquid. Tingling subsides. With my other hand, I run my fingers through the mess I made. I bring the slimy fingers to my mouth, taking the other fingers out. I stick them in my mouth, slurping every bit of my juice in. It mixes, semi-sweet, with Dad's punky taste. My whole mouth feels so full of all this juice. I swallow. It goes down my throat slowly, so sticky, like peanut butter. I swallow several times before it feels like my mouth is clear, but still the intense aroma of Dad's juice lingers. I fall asleep before I can think to sabotage Dad's boxers for the next day. When I wake up, it's morning, and Dad is already up and working in his office downstairs. It's Boxing Day. Usually, we go out shopping, but this year there's no shopping allowed. Another day confined to our house. I watch four movies with my older brother, and play some video games. The day rushes by but all I can think about is what's going to happen when Dad comes to tuck me in when it's over. Finally, bedtime comes. Dad is there right on time. He kneels down on the floor next to me, running his fingers through my hair. "You know, you're far too old to still have bedtimes like this," he says. "But I like them," I say. "I like that you didn't grow up properly," he tells me. "Most sons by this age move out and wouldn't even want their dad in their room. Like your brother." "I'll never grow up," I tell Dad. "Yeah, that's probably true." He purses his lips, that deep look of thought on his face. "Are you going to stay in your bed this time? It seems to be getting out of hand lately." I nod. "I always stay in bed." Dad narrows his eyes a little at me. "So you say. I think I might have to watch you fall asleep. Make sure nothing happens." I feel a moment of disappointment. "I'll do it for real this time." Dad crosses his arms, standing. He shakes his head. "Come on, fall asleep. I'll make sure you do it right." I turn away from him, closing my eyes. Taking deep breaths, I pretend I'm falling asleep. I listen the whole time for the sound of the door creaking. There's no sound at all. I wait, still breathing deep, eyes closed. The sound never comes, but I'm getting relaxed. I'll just keep waiting, just keep waiting... I sit up, realizing I've been having a dream. The room is dark, and the door is closed. There's no sign of Dad. The clock reads 11:30PM. This isn't right! Dad always comes to check on me. I get out of bed. My pajama bottoms flap open at the back. I move to my familiar spot, fall down there. Surely, Dad will come check on me. I wait a long time. Nothing happens. Finally, I get up and see it's after midnight. Was this because I forgot to cut open Dad's boxer seam? Did he finally realize he's gone too far, thinking my invitations were over because of what he did to me last night? I get back in bed, but I'm so mad I can't fall asleep. I toss and turn, until finally, at 1:30, I get up. I head to Dad's room. I'll make sure he doesn't get the wrong idea this time. Once in the dressing room, I grab his boxers. The scissors are on the ledge where I left them. I start cutting the seam. I'm halfway through when I hear the nearby toilet flush. Dad's in the master bathroom. He must have been in there when I snuck in, and he'll pass me on his way back to bed... I freeze, then quickly drop to the floor. I get in the same position he always finds me in. I'm just in time, as the door opens. "What the fuck..." he says. He sighs. I feel one of his large hands on my butt. "You just won't stay in your bed, will you?" He squeezes firmly on my butt cheek. I feel his body against mine as he leans close, his stubble pressed against my cheek as he whispers in my ear, "I'd be best to take you to my bed then." If only he knows how much his words excite me. I'm sure he knows I'm aware, sure he knows this is all part of the game, but even so, I don't dare pretend to be aware of what he's doing. Dad doesn't press his hips against mine. Instead, he picks me up, two of his firm, hairy arms wrapping around my torso in a hug. He lifts me with ease, the way he could have lifted me any of those times he found me on the floor. I let my arms and head dangle loose. His hug is so firm though that he has my whole upper body supported in his arms, my head supported by his hand. He carries me the short distance to his bed, and sets me there. His bed is a custom-made super-king. He has ten pillows stacked on the headboard, and a large blanket at the foot. That's where he sets me. I hear him pull at the sheets. I don't move, don't dare open my eyes, so I can only guess what he's doing. Moments pass, and there's no sound. Has he simply gone to sleep, keeping me safe near his feet? I could sleep here, but my heart is pounding so hard, my body is so tense being so close to where Dad sleeps, not wanting to miss the moment he might touch me again. Finally, his hand touches my shoulder. It's a caress. He runs his ringers up along the lines of my shoulder blade. "I know you're not asleep," he whispers. I say nothing, do nothing. He puts another hand on me, on my other shoulder. Now, he grips them, pulling my chest up from the blanket. I make sure I let my head fall forward. He lifts more, until I'm sitting partway upright, leaning toward him. Dad keeps a firm grip on my shoulders, as he moves close toward me. In the dark, I can't see anything, only outlines of shadows, his body coming close to me. Something firm and hard presses against my face. I know that shape so well, from all the times it's pressed against my bottom. It's warm and has the distinct texture of flesh. Dad's hard penis glides along my slightly-parted lips. He rides the shaft there, as he presses his crotch hard into my face, until his pubes grate against my chin. It takes all my willpower not to open my mouth fully, not to put out my tongue and taste that firm length. I don't even straighten my neck, to make it easier for him to ram that dick against his son's mouth. Dad likes having me like this, I know. He likes that my whole body is limp and his to control, that there's not a thing he can't do to me, not a thing I will resist. Dad's thick thighs press against my chest, holding me up. His hands move up my neck, up to my hair, where he makes gentle fists around it to hold my head in place. Now he humps my mouth, running the shaft up and down my parted lips. I pretend the motion has opened my mouth a little wider. As he drags the thick base across my lips, my jaw falls open. As he runs it up, pulling at my upper lip, I drool a little, pooling liquid there for his use. He runs his dick down and I the wetness run across my chin. Carefully, I work up more spit, with the subtlest movements, letting more pool as Dad runs his dick over my welcoming mouth. With all his up-and-down rubbing, I've been able to open my mouth all the way. Spit is all but running from my lips, soaking the length of his cock as he uses my face for his pleasure. Drool is running down my chin, a bead trailing down my neck. I can tell Dad likes it, because he's groaning now. He makes a tighter fist around my hair, thrusting his legs harder against my chest. This time, as he slides his dick down, he slides all the way until the fat helmet pokes into my wet, open mouth. He changes the motion of his thrusting. Now, he inches that tip the slightest bit, gliding it in and out of my lips. Each thrust, Dad slides in just a bit more. He's swearing under his breath. I let my whole mouth relax, stop moving my tongue. I let my whole jaw go loose like my head, like my limbs. His cock thrusts in, so thick, so hard, pressing against my tongue, my cheeks. He thrusts in all the way to my throat. He groans so loud when he makes it go in that far, louder than when he slides it out until the tip touches my lips, thrusts it in deep again. He holds it there. Now instead, he lets the thick shaft glide a little in and out over my lips, the fat tip never leaving the back of my tongue. If Dad pushes his dick in any more, I'll gag. But Dad seems to know what he's doing. He still has more of that mammoth dick to thrust in my lips, but he stops here. The whole length of my tongue is wrapped around the underside of his dick. He glides it back and forth over that curving, wetness, and his breath is getting sharp. He really likes this, I can tell. Dad keeps gliding his dick, the tip filling the back of my mouth. I can feel his wide piss-slit, each time he presses in, spreading open against the base of my tongue. "Oh fuck," Dad says. "Look what you do to me..." That's all the warning I have. Where that spreading slit pressed on my tongue, I feel thick, hard bursts of his fluid. I know instantly that it's his, the way it coats my taste buds, so strong and punky. Dad blasts it out, squirt after squirt, against my tongue, hitting the back of my throat. I keep my mouth and lips slack. So much juice erupts from the tip of that dick, it's running down my lips. Warm rivers of that fluid trail down my throat, running along my collarbone. Dad moans, swearing, such carefree sounds like I've never heard from him before. He erupts and erupts. My heart races with excitement as his sticky mess fills my mouth like I've only dared to hope it might. I lost count of the throbbing of his dick, my mind dizzy with excitement, as blast after blast time seems to stop. I only know its over when Dad swears one last time, drawing his dick out slowly from my lips. His warm juice has run down my chest, even some has made it to my bellybutton. Dad holds me upright with his legs, as he backs off a little, then puts those firm hands on my shoulders again. He helps turn me around so I lay on my back. I'm aware of just how much his juice has covered the front of my body. I don't swallow the sticky juice that remains in my mouth. Dad leans over me, pressing his stubble close to my ear again. "Maybe if I leave you to clean this up, you'll finally get to sleep properly." That's all he says as he crawls back to the other side of the bed, shifting the covers and finally stilling. The first thing I do is swallow his thick cream. Then, carefully, telling myself it's dark and he won't see me, I run my fingers through the rest. Dad's juice is still warm on my body. I relish the taste of each finger-full. If only Dad could see me, how I'm sucking my fingers so delicately, how much I enjoy that special load he shoots from his dick. I clean my whole body, wetting my fingers and running them up and down every inch of my chest, my abs. I'm entirely clean, and the taste of Dad's pungent juice lingers in my mouth. I feel so relaxed, finally aware how tired I am... I awake to daylight. I'm still laying on the blanket at the foot of Dad's bed, except there's a pillow under my head. I sit up--no sign of Dad. When I get up, I can hear Dad talking on a Zoom meeting from his office. My brother's in his room with the door closed. I half-wonder if last night was all a dream. It seems too good to be true. I dress and play some video games in the rec room, the day passing. My brother joins later and we watch more movies. We don't see Dad for much of the day, because he's so busy with work. It seems the day ends before it's begun. It's dark and we've had a late dinner, and I'm already in my bed waiting for Dad to come see me. He doesn't show up on time. I wait until 10PM and am surprised he's still not here. Now I'm truly worried. Have I finally ruined it? Has Dad decided this bedtime ritual has gone on far longer than it should have? Will he force me to act like a real grown up now? I start to panic, but it doesn't last. The door creaks open and Dad steps in. In the hall light, I can tell from the look on his face that something is bothering him. He kneels down next to me. "How would you like to start sleeping in my bed from now on?" I pretend not to be excited. "Really?" "You're too grown up for this, I think. And...my bed is too big and lonely. Maybe, if you come join me, you'll outgrow this silly need to be tucked in." I pretend to be disappointed. "But I like being tucked in." "I think it's time to grow up a little. Starting tonight." "Okay?" Dad nods. "I tend to sleep at 10:30. So, from now on, if you want some special time with me, come and join me in my bed. I've been lonely, since Mom...you know." I feel a brief wave of sadness. It's been many years without mom, but in moments like this I can still feel the pain of when we first lost her. "I'll keep you company as long as you want me." "I'll be glad to have you." Dad leaves me. I'm pulsing with excitement, my mind spinning with uncertainty. I don't know if this means our game is over, or what it means, but I know that being able to sleep next to Dad, secretly, for as long as I want...I'll trade in anything for that. I wait until 10:30, then I get up and traipse down the hall. I see the dark form of Dad under the sheets as I lift the cover then slip in next to him. He turns to me as soon as I nestle my body against his. I pretend right away to be asleep. Dad reaches his hands down to my hips. I expect him to move me, but instead, he tugs the pajamas right down, pulling them over my knees, then tugging them entirely free. He presses his hips against mine, and that's when I feel that he's also naked. His big, hard dick presses against my smaller one. His pubes grate against my smooth skin. He wets his hand repeatedly, running fingers over my butt, slicking his dick. Dad I so fast and efficient as he slides his wet dick down into my crack, dragging the tip below my balls, until it presses against my hole. He thrusts up, and I lay still as though sleeping, my body limp and his to use. His dick glides in so easily, I'm so relaxed down there, so eager for Dad to be having his way with me. His dick goes all the way in, and when it does, he pulls it out then rams it in again. He's moaning like he moaned last night, moaning with abandon. It's like a floodgate has burst in Dad, this moment where he's filling my butthole with his dick. He presses his mouth against my hair, his stubble like sandpaper on my cheek. "So tight. So tight..." He thrusts in and out, faster, faster. His motion rubs his abs against my dick each time, filling my dick with tingles of pleasure. "You know how to make my burst. Oh fuck..." He thrusts in hard, so hard, holding his dick there, his whole body going tense. I know it's that moment again, his juices erupting, even as I feel his dick twitching inside me. He moans in my ear, licking along the auricle. He breathes so hard, the sound sharp in my eardrum. The rubbing motion is so intense, his abs massaging against my dick harder than my hand, so much more skilfully. I blast with that intense climax of sensation, feel my dick twitching its own rhythm against his, as I empty myself in wet spurts against my belly. Finally, he stills, but he keeps his dick inside me. He kisses my hair above the ear, repeatedly. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. My dick has finished its own eruption. He nestles his head next to mine, pillow propped under us. Still filling me, Dad sighs, and I think he's fallen asleep, until he speaks softly. "Do you like this better?" For the first time since we began playing this game, I actually stop pretending. "Yeah," I say, knowing with these words, I risk everything. Dad kisses my hair again, squeezing me tighter in his hug. "I'm glad. From now on, you're mine every night, just like this." "Okay." I feel so much relief, so much stress let go all in this single moment I got back more than I gambled. "But," Dad says. "Keep pretending you're asleep. I like it that way...pretending we're not actually doing this." "This will be our secret forever," I say. "Good," he says, and finally he pulls out of me. I roll over and he spoons me from behind, his now-limp cock resting in my crack. I fall asleep, knowing when I awaken, I have nothing to worry about. Finally, I know Dad will take me however he wants, and no matter what I do, I'll never scare him away. ***INFO*** Want more by Master Dominic? Visit: https://dirtygayerotica.wordpress.com Please show your support by donating to Nifty to help keep these stories alive! Copyright (c) 2021, Master Dominic. All Rights Reserved. DISCLAIMER: All details of all characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.