Disclaimers: Things get pretty rough! There's some nasty sex between (consenting) family members and strangers. Don't read if you're underage, or if reading about barely legal boys is illegal in your country. Also, don't read it if the idea of gay sex offends you (because there's quite a lot of it). And in case you didn't know, in the UK, we drive on the left.
Things changed a bit after that night.
The cock cage stayed on, to my dismay. Dad wanted me to know he was always in charge, I guess. And it was another tool with which to tease and humiliate me.
Starting the next day, dad laid down the law. From now on I was to get up 30 minutes earlier and wake him with a nice gentle blowjob (that frequently developed into a full-scale fucking). Then I went downstairs to make breakfast. Dad needed a pretty big breakfast to maintain his physique, so that normally took most of my morning. Hopefully I would have time to make a little something for myself and then I would race to get dressed for school.
Dad expected me to keep my grades up and warned me there would be harsh penalties for failure. After-school detentions would be met with the strictest of punishments. So I had to pay constant attention to schoolwork and would try and do as much of my homework as possible between classes, so that I'd be able to finish at home. Sometimes I'd get caught or mess it up and then I was seriously fucked, but that's a story for another day.
After school, Dad would expect me to run home. I had previously cycled, but Dad prefers I arrive tired, humble, and a little sweaty. Once I got in the house I would rip off my clothes as fast as possible and fold them neatly by the door. Dad would sort them out later; he decided what clothes I would wear and how often I would be allowed to wash my uniform. Once I was totally naked, I would run into the living room and wait on my knees for orders. Most days, Dad would be waiting there watching TV. If I wasn't back there on my knees by 4:20 (school ends at 4:00), I would be punished. No excuses. If Dad wasn't there, I was to wait for him until he got there. The only time I was allowed to move was when the phone rang or the doorbell went - Dad had hung a tight, pink, open sided bikini next to the door so that I would at least be legally presentable (albeit thoroughly humiliated) if I had to greet a stranger.
Normally dad would start the evening with some humiliating task. Sometimes I was a naked footstool for his size 15 feet, dirty from a day of work and the gym, while he relaxed with a beer and watched the football. Sometimes he would expect me to give him a tongue bath, paying particular attention to the raunchiest areas of his body and finishing off with a long rimjob. On a similar theme, he would occasionally give me his sweat-soaked gym clothes and underwear and made me wear, suck or sniff each piece until I had his scent stuck on my body and in my head. Other times, he would give me an item, maybe a dildo or a flogger, and expect me to use it on myself for his amusement. If he wasn't impressed with my attempt, he would take it over himself and increase the pain and humiliation levels until I begged him to stop.
This became our routine. We would also take turns making dinner. When I cooked, I would make extravagant meals and try and outdo myself every time so that he would be kind and maybe jack me off before bed (which was the best sexual relief I could hope for most days). When he cooked, he would feed himself first and then leave me whatever scraps were left, usually with an added ingredient, either piss, spit, cum, or even sweat rung out of his clothes. On those days, I would eat out of a dish on the floor while he watched.
I would have some time for homework, but all evening I was "on call" for whatever games he wanted to play. This meant I was never sure how much time I would have. On an average day, Dad would expect to cum 5 times in total. He couldn't stand wasting a load that wasn't either fed to me or pumped up my boycunt. I tried to keep myself lubed up constantly, because he wasn't going to bother. I did discover that his weakness was body worship. I could get him to be gentler by stroking and sucking on his muscular arms and torso, if he gave me the chance. More often than not, though, I found myself shackled to my bed and fucked out of my mind.
So, that's what happened during the week. On the weekends, he would make special plans that usually involved going out. I'll tell you exactly what happened on the first Saturday after I turned 16. I think it sets out our relationship pretty well.
Dad woke me up early and told me to put on a pair of baggy shorts. I was groggy with sleeplessness so I wasn't sure what was going on at first. I was glad to be wearing clothes, though. Dad wore a Hawaiian shirt with several buttons undone to leave little of his bulging, hairy chest to the imagination. He was wearing shorts similar to mine.
I made breakfast as usual, taking my time for something extra special. We sat down and ate it together at the table, for the first time in a while. Dad seemed impressed. "You're a good little slut, you know that, boy?" he asked as he tousled my hair. I smiled shyly. "I didn't think you'd adapt so fast, but you're doing well. Don't let me down, cunt." I blushed. The compliments laced with insults had me hot and bothered.
When we were done, Dad got up and walked out the room. When he came back, he threw me a set of keys. "Come on, fag boy, let's go for a drive." I got up. Dad has a private area of land in the countryside he lets me drive around in. I had a pretty good idea of how to steer, how to change gear, etc. But I'd never been on the road before. I couldn't get a licence for another year.
Dad had gotten a brand new car recently that he had been meaning to test out. "Ok, boy, you remember how everything works in here?" he asked, and I nodded. I was sitting in the driver's seat, still shirtless, while Dad sat next to me watching over me. Hesitantly I put the key in the ignition and turned it on. I set the cart into first gear, put on a little bit of gas, took off the brake and gently lifted off the clutch. The car glided gently out the drive and onto the street. I turned sharply so we were on the correct side of the road. "Not bad, boy," said Dad, with a hint of pride in his voice. "Now keep going down the street."
Dad continued to give me directions. We were driving quite a long way, to places I'd never seen before. I started getting worried. If there were police, they would find out I was underage and I didn't know the penalty for driving without a licence. I saw a sign up ahead that said we were getting to a motorway. It was still early, so there weren't many people around. "OK, boy, you're doing good. Don't worry about it. Speed up as you get onto the motorway. I want you doing 70 miles per hour as you come onto it." I did, but I was sweating quite hard. I had never been in control of something so fast in my life. Behind me, a car started to overtake. It made me feel even more nervous. I knew I shouldn't be doing this. I was about to open my mouth and say I wanted to go home.
"Boy, I know you're nervous, and that's OK. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you." Suddenly, Dad reached for my shorts, and pulled them down over my knees until they were around my ankles. He pulled out a tiny key from his pocket and undid the cock cage, letting my dick burst free into the open air. Instinctively, it swelled, and I gasped. I wobbled on the steering a bit. "You're so fucking hot when you're scared, boy." He reached for my 7.5-inch boy-prick boner and started to slowly wank me up and down. I was shivering and sweating over the wheel. He jerked me up and down, up and down, and I started to relax into the feeling.
The car that had overtaken us was up ahead. "OK, boy. I want you to move into the right-hand lane. And I want you to accelerate." My heart was pounding in my chest. We were already going faster than my comfort zone. But diligently, I moved into the lane. I watched the speedometer rise to 80, 10 miles per hour above the speed limit. Dad began to wank me faster.
"Faster, bitch. Drive us faster." My foot went down on the gas pedal. Dad leaned over and began to suck on my cock. I gasped loudly and nearly lost control. I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation. But now I was the only one with eyes on the road. The car that had overtaken us honked its horn as we zoomed past.
"Faster, you little motherfucker," Dad growled in the middle of sucking me off. We passed 100 mph. Then 110. The slightest curve in the road was becoming a problem. If a police car caught us now, we would face jail time. I shuddered as I felt myself draw close to orgasm. 120. The engine was roaring as we hit 130. We were going too fast. I had a moment of panic - I thought this was it, we weren't getting out of this unscathed. Then, suddenly, I was cumming. I was cumming explosive shots down Dad's throat. My whole body was shivering and dripping with cold sweat. I swerved and I thought I would lose control, but Dad came off my dick to grab the wheel with strong hands and slam the breaks until we were at an appropriate speed. My dick hadn't stopped firing shots and I had cum all over my tummy and chest.
"Calm down, you little bitch! Get back in control!" Dad yelled at me. I came to my senses and started to drive properly. 70 mph suddenly seemed extremely manageable. Dad looked around over his shoulder. "You lucky little fucker. I think you might have got away with it." I breathed a sigh of relief but my heart was still pounding in my chest.
That was easily the most intense orgasm of my life. My brain was reeling. This was totally fucked up, and yet, I was loving it. I clasped the wheel tightly with my sweaty hands.
Dad gave me a few minutes to get my nerves back in order. Then, he had another instruction. "OK, boy. Pull into that service station up ahead." I signalled left and slowed down as we approached the exit. I turned in. It was pretty empty. I found an easy parking spot and pulled up. The cum had half dried to my chest and abs by now. "Good job, bitch-boy, now step out the car. Follow me." We got out and started walking in the direction of the men's room.
It had that public restroom smell of chemicals mixed with body odour and piss. Along the wall was one of those long, metal urinals, rather than the little basins. Dad smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. "Strip for me, boy." I didn't have much to remove. Just my shorts and a pair of sandals. Dad dropped them in the urinal. "Ok, you little faggot. You've made me so fucking hot for you." Dad paused as he undid his shirt buttons, leaving his shirt fully open. "Step in the urinal and face Daddy."
I obliged. The cold metal sent shivers across my bare skin. "Crouch," Dad barked. I sank lower in the cold, wet urinal. Dad pulled out his half-hard monstercock and aimed it at my face. "Open wide, you little cunt!," he cried, piss streaming out his dick and onto my young face. I'd never tasted piss before but suddenly I desperately wanted too. I tried to swallow as much as I could but Dad kept moving his dick so the spray soaked my face and hair, before dripping down over my cum-stained chest and abs, and even lower.
What I could taste was fucking delicious. I wanted every drop of my Dad's cock juices in whatever form they came. Dad then wanked his prick to full hardness - it didn't take long - and rammed it down my still-open little mouth. "Oh fuck yeah, swallow me, fuck-face!" Dad yelled as he rammed in and out of my throat, making it ache in pain. I wanted to suck on the veiny fucker but Dad didn't give me any choice, he fucked my throat like a cunt with no regard for what I wanted or needed. "Oh, shit," he moaned as he fucked me. I took all 10 and a half inches down my slut throat, even though it hurt like hell, just so I could please him. He fucked and fucked for what seemed like an eternity. Snot was running down my face from the way he was throwing my head around, impaled on his dick. Finally, he came. He bit his lip to avoid a roar, but the explosion told me this was a monumental orgasm. He looked down at his own son, sitting in the urinal, covered in his piss, slurping down his cum, and he smiled in satisfaction. I could feel his dick twitching in pleasure in my mouth and I smiled back. As it lost a bit of hardness, Dad's cock slipped out from between my lips. His breathing started to normalise and he chuckled. I lovingly kissed Dad's dickhead and slowly moved down to service his hairy balls.
Then we heard the sound of motorbikes in the parking lot.
It turned out it was a biker gang with 7 or 8 members travelling together. Dad made me wait in the urinal while he went out to speak to them. The leader was one of Dad's close friends from college. I sometimes wonder if this had been set up from the start. Anyway, Dad and the gang leader went into the restaurant to have a meal and catch up on old times. Which left me to entertain an entire group of leathered up, horny, pierced, tattooed, queer bikers.
They took turns pinning me to the ground of the urine-stained floor as they fucked me both ends. We didn't have any lube, so I took them raw. There was a pretty wide range of penis sizes. Some I could take fairly comfortably considering I had lost my virginity less than a week ago. Others were big and rough and caused tears to run down my face as they brutally fucked me - which only made the bikers on my face even more turned on. They would compete to see who could make my throat bulge the most as they stuffed my face with cock. They also took turns pissing on me, their dicks poking out of the flies of their leather jeans. Some of them pissed down my throat before they fucked me.
I got to taste seven different kinds of cum down my throat as I lay there. I was told to appreciate each and every drop, which I did, fervently. One of the bikers caught some of the cum out of my leaking ass with a leathered finger and pushed it down my throat. I realised I was rapidly losing my gag reflex (and thank god because this would have been hell otherwise). Then, finally, Dad and the gang leader arrived. Dad took up my sloppy, leaking ass for one final fuck while the leader ravaged my throat one more time. I savoured his greasy dick down my throat as the pair of them came down opposite ends.
Dad made me thank each one of them in turn, although my voice was so hoarse I could barely speak. Then he marched me onto the parking lot naked. There were CCTV cameras around so I can only assume that Dad knew the guys in charge of this station. He threw me into the passenger seat, climbed into the driver's, and slammed the door shut. He reattached the cock cage - I realised at this point that I had cum once during the fuckfest, as my torso was covered with even more of my own cum. I noticed there was foreign cum on me as well. The smell of cum began to get a little too strong so Dad wound down the windows as he drove out the service station. The motorway was busier now. Dad just grinned when a large truck overtook us, honking its horn and yelling obscenities at my pale, naked, filth-encrusted body.
We finally arrived home around mid-afternoon. Dad and I made out in the car once we had parked. "You smell like shit, boy," Dad commented, but it didn't stop him from probing his tongue around my mouth. I knew better than to object. Dad lifted me up and carried my tired, limp body into the house and cleaned me up in the shower. Then, he towelled me off and carried me back to bed. He shackled me there and fucked me slowly for about 35 minutes. When he finally came, I was already falling asleep. He leant forward and kissed me on the forehead, before lowering my legs into a comfortable horizontal position and covering my immobilised body with a think blanket. Then he left the room without a word, turning off the light and letting me fall into a contended slumber.
Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Email jcrazyninety@gmail.com !