Seduced By My Dom Young Son By Pepper
m/M Incest, Humil
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.
None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.
His mother had left my eleven-year-old son and me at home one blustery Friday afternoon to go on a three-week business trip. She had given me strict instructions, as she always did, as to how I was to take care of him. As she went on and on about this and that, my son and I exchanged sly, knowing glances. She was going to be away from us for three whole weeks, and we were not going to miss her one little bit, neither one of us.
The first night after she left town, we had a terrible thunderstorm at the house and my son became very frightened. Just after an enormous clap of thunder had shaken the house, he flew out of his own bed right into my bedroom. He nudged me awake and told me breathlessly how scared and how lonely he was. I could tell by his woebegone expression that he was far more lonely than scared. Half asleep, I gazed at my boy standing there by my bed, naked except for his underwear shorts. He was a sweet looking young kid, with an angelic face framed by downy blond hair. I was proud that such a good looking boy was my son.
He stood there in front of me and asked very shyly and plaintively if he could get into bed with me. He looked so forlorn that I couldn't refuse him. Besides, I was lonely, too, and I felt sorry for him in his fear and his loneliness. And he was just so cute standing there in just his underwear shorts, with his little package framed so enticingly within the white cotton. He was tall for his age and his skin was so smooth to look at. I quickly pulled back the covers and he happily crawled into bed right beside me. I pulled the warm covers back over us both as he lay there on his side, and, for some reason I'll never be able to figure out, I just naturally spooned up behind him with my arm draped possessively over his smooth, bare shoulder. He immediately snuggled back against me and sighed softly. His slender young body that snuggled against mine so tightly felt warm and cuddly cozy. It was an enjoyable feeling for me to be so physically close to him. And no mom around to scold or interfere, or even to know about it.
I suddenly experienced a hungry little throb inside my flaccid penis as the boy pressed his naked back snugly against my chest, and I grew angry with myself that my son's being in my bed, pressing his warm young body against mine so cozily was affecting me that way; my own son for heaven's sake!
As we lay there together like that under the nice, warm covers in the darkened bedroom, all snug and cuddly cozy, and despite my self-anger and self-loathing, I could feel my penis becoming more and more erect. That fact scared me a great deal. I didn't want my body to react to the closeness of my son's almost naked body in sick, incestuous, pedo ways like that. Not my own son. I didn't know where such feelings had come from or where they might lead.
I really tried my best for a couple minutes to break contact with my son's snuggly warm body and to pull my own body away from him, but by this time my erection was having none of it. Instead, I found myself actually pulling my son's near naked body even closer against me so my throbbing erection would be pressed tighter against his warm body. I prayed that he had gone fast sleep and therefore wouldn't notice my hardness pressing through my underwear against his taut little butt cheeks.
I just lay there as still as I could, spooned up against my young son, my hardness getting harder and my breath growing more and more like pants of lewd desire rather than normal breathing. I could feel the gentle rise and fall of his own breathing, and prayed even harder that he was sound asleep and wouldn't notice how sick, pedo hungry I was becoming for his young body.
Suddenly, like a light switch going on, I became overwhelmed by this frantic longing to touch his little member through his underwear with my fingers. I knew I was just too cowardly actually to let my fingers steal inside his underwear to touch his little package, but I did want in the worst way to feel his cute little boy prick through the material. At first, I was horrified that I could even want to do such a perverted thing to my own son. But as I lay there pressing my rock hard erection against his bubble butt, the sick yearning grew stronger and stronger until I just couldn't fight it off any longer.
I stealthily moved the arm that was draped over his shoulder until my hand was pressed right against the front of his underwear. Tentatively, ever so tentatively, I moved my hand until the very tips of my fingers touched him down there. Surprise upon surprise. Instead of a flaccid little boy prick, I felt his erect little penis, very stiff and wriggling like an eel inside his underwear.
It was just about then that he giggled at my surprise and turned his body over so that he faced me. He looked up at me with his bright doe eyes and smiled his sweetest little smile. Then, without a word being said, he pressed his full, little boy lips against mine and he kissed me, softly at first, then more hungrily as I responded by lovingly stroking his back. His little arms went around my neck and he pulled me close to him.
He told me much later that he had been planning his seduction of me ever since he found out his mother was going away. He had wanted to seduced me, he had wanted that very much. He was succeeding beyond his wildest dreams, and, as I kissed his little mouth so ardently, I told myself over and over that I was now his, all his, for three whole weeks to play with. His mother, my wife was gone, and we were alone together. And he wanted to be close to me, physically close, sexually close.
When he finally broke that first torrid kiss he asked me slyly if he kissed better than his mom did. I told him that he kissed very, very much better than she ever did. Then he asked me if I liked how his young body felt against mine as compared with his mom's. I confessed shyly that I found his young body far sexier than that of his mom. When I said that, he giggled softly and kissed me again, this time hard and hungrily. We pulled each other's bodies tightly together. I felt the soft, smooth skin of his back as I stroked and petted him. He pulled my head tightly against his hungry mouth. It felt like bliss to me.
As we kissed, my hand stole down his body to caress his butt cheeks through his underwear. He responded by wriggling his little butt seductively against my probing hand. After a while, I tried to slide my hand under him to touch his penis.
He pulled back from our torrid kiss and told me, "No, Daddy. Not now. Maybe later, but only if you're a good boy."
His words sent shivers of sick lust through me. They made me even hungrier than before to touch him, to look at him, to taste him. But his words also let me know that if I wanted all that, I would have to be a good boy for him. So I eased back and allowed him to set the pace. Noting my compliant response, he rewarded me with another long, hot kiss.
We stayed just that way for the remainder of that first stormy night. I held him close to my body and we kissed each other passionately until he finally fell asleep. I could feel his turgid little boner pressing through his underwear against my belly while my own erection, still striving to break out of my own underwear, was snugly captured between his slender, bare thighs. In his sleep, his strong legs squeezed my penis hard, and that kept me erect for him. I was glad. I wanted to be erect for him. I wanted him to know, that even in his sleep, his sexy young body kept me erect for him. I wanted to be his good boy.
While he slept peacefully, his warm, strong young body pressed tightly against mine, his soft boy lips resting against my cheek, his warm boy breath caressing my face, my mind raced wildly over the past few hours. How had this sick, incestuous seduction happened to me? How had I allowed my own young son to seduce me? Why had I fallen for him so hard, so fast? Was this heavenly night together all there was going to be of it? Would we get up tomorrow morning as if nothing had happened between us? What did he have in mind for me? Did he really want me to be his good boy? I fell into a fitful sleep wondering and hoping.
Around dawn that Saturday morning, I felt him move away from me on the bed. I didn't want to let him go, but I couldn't bring myself to try to stop him. He had made the first move in our love making of the night before and he would set the pace of it, if there was to be any more of it.
He jumped up and scampered into the master bath. In a couple seconds, I could hear him peeing. The sound of his pee hitting the water in the toilet bowl made me wonder fleetingly what his little penis looked like with hot boy pee streaming out of it. I hoped I would get the chance to find out soon. I wanted so much to be his good boy.
After his peed, he rushed out of the bedroom, and I could hear his footfalls racing down the stairs. I got up, went into the master bath, peed, brushed my teeth, came back into the bedroom, grabbed a pair of walking shorts out of the chest of drawers, and went down to see what he was up to.
He was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal.
"Hi, Daddy," he chirped merrily. "I got hungry."
He was cheerful and acted just as if nothing at all unusual had happened last night. I decided to play along with him, at least for a while. So I put together my own bowl of cereal and sat down with him at the dinette to eat.
"Can you watch cartoons with me this morning, Daddy?" he said slyly as he spooned the last spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
"Sure, son," I said as cheerfully as I could. I didn't particularly want to spend my Saturday morning watching kid cartoons, but I wanted to spend some more quality time with him. I wanted to be his good boy. If he wanted cartoons, cartoons it was.
Having heard my agreement to watch cartoons with him, he giggled triumphantly, ran out of the kitchen and, very soon, I could hear the sounds of the TV being on and cartoons blaring out. I finished my own bowl of cereal, washed out the two bowls and headed for the living room where the big screen TV was hanging from a wall.
He was sitting there on the carpet with his back to the couch, facing the TV. He still had on his underwear shorts from the previous evening and nothing else. I could plainly see his slender and creamy white young legs stretched out in front of him and his smooth, bare shoulders, his hairless chest, his tousled blond hair, and his puppy fat tummy as well. A renewed rush of lewd hunger swept over me as I stared at his young body, so sexy sitting there in just his underwear shorts. He observed me staring at him that way and a knowing little smile crossed his lips.
"Sit down behind me, Daddy, so I can snuggle back against you."
I obediently walked toward where he was sitting and he scrunched forward a little to give me room.
"Be a good boy and take off your shorts, Daddy, but leave your underpants on, at least for now. I really like the feel of your big, Daddy boner pressing against my back through the material of your underpants."
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. Here was my young son telling me how he wanted me to sit, and what he wanted to feel, and I was doing it, just as ordered. I wanted to be his good boy.
"I'll do as you say, son, because I want to be with you like that. But you can't ever, ever tell your mom about it or what we do together."
He looked up at me and smiled that angelic little smile of his.
"I'll never, ever tell mom what we have done or will do together, Daddy. I don't want her to interfere or stop us."
His words were music to my ears. We were going to have more times together just like last night. I immediately unsnapped my shorts and let them fall onto the carpet. Then, I slid behind him with my bare back to the couch and my legs spread so he could slide back right against me. I could feel my erection stirring once more in my underwear as his back was pressed tightly against my chest. The cozy, cuddly feeling between dad and son that we had experienced the night before had returned, and it was wonderful, and also quite sexy. I loved it.
As we sat there together watching his favorite kid cartoons, he quietly ordered me to be a good boy and rub his legs. Of course my hands fell immediately to their sensuous task. The skin on his young legs was ever so soft and smooth, and I could feel the taut muscles underneath the skin. I was in heaven as I continued to stroke his angel smooth legs all the way from his ankles up to the leg holes of his underwear shorts. I was afraid to go further without his permission. My erection was rock hard by this time, and I knew he could feel it like a hot, throbbing ramrod against his naked back.
We sat that way for an hour or so, me sliding my hands slowly and stealthily up and down his oh-so-smooth young legs and he leaning back against me making an occasional soft sighing sound deep in his throat. At times, I would move my head so I could whisper little endearments into his ear, punctuating them with tiny licks around his earlobe. He seemed to like that a great deal, for he sighed whenever I did it.
Languidly he finally said, "Be a good boy and reach inside my underwear and take out my pecker now, Daddy. I know you want to".
And God, how I wanted to have his permission to do just that. My right hand immediately slid up his smooth, silky thigh and reached inside his fly to grasp his little stiffie. His penis was small but very, very hard against my searching fingers. It throbbed and wriggled as I grasped it. I could feel his tiny balls as the back of my hand brushed against them as I pulled his stiffie out of his underwear. It was only about four inches long, but so very, very hard. I began stroking it ever so gently with the tips of my thumb and index finger. The skin of his penis was chamois soft and smooth to my touch. He moaned a little bit deep in his throat, and that sound made me simply crazy with lust for him.
My own throbbing erection was beginning to leak pre-cum onto my underwear, and my breath was coming in little pants, just exactly like it had done last night.
As I continued gently to stroke him, he leaned further back against me, turned his head to the side, and I brushed his soft young cheek with my famished lips. I made a little whimpering noise, leaned forward even further and around till our cheeks were touching, I so desperately wanted to kiss his sweet, wet young mouth just like last night, but I just couldn't get to it. I was ravenous to kiss him, to feel our lips pressed together, to feel his darting little tongue searching out my mouth, possessing it, owning it, and owning me as well.
Just the thought of it transported me right to heaven.
After a while, he softly pushed my hand away from his erection. I whimpered piteously at being deprived of the touch of his tantalizing stiffie, but he only laughed softly and quietly promised me I could have more of him later if I was a good boy. God, how I wanted right then to be his good boy!
Then for a while we just sat there, our hungry bodies pressed tightly against each other. He was setting the pace and I could do nothing but await his pleasure.
After a few more minutes that felt like hours, he said in a sweet, small voice, "Do you want me to help you now, Daddy? Help you with your pecker, I mean."
The word, "yes" shot from my lips before I even had a chance to think about it.
He giggled, tucked in his legs, turned around to face me, and said, "Be a good boy and slide forward a little so I can wrap my legs around your tummy, Daddy."
No sooner said than done. His slender boy legs wrapped around me above the waist and I now could really see his stiffie protruding from his underwear shorts. It looked beautiful to me, totally desirable, totally demanding, totally commanding. I was simply mesmerized by the drop of clear pre-cum that oozed out of the very tip of his penis' purple head. I craved a taste of it. I yearned to be allowed to lick it off of its sweet little perch.
Then he reached deftly inside my own underwear shorts and slowly drew out my throbbing, pre-cum slick erection. He giggled as he realized how mesmerized I had become by his body, how hungry for him, how wanton, how abandoned. His small fingers wrapped tightly around my turgid, throbbing shaft and he began to stroke me ever so slowly, ever so teasingly.
"Do you really want me to help you with your pecker, Daddy?" he said in a soft, husky voice.
"Yes, oh yes!" I practically shouted. "Daddy wants you to help him. Daddy wants it more than anything."
"Help you do what with your pecker, Daddy?" he teased slyly.
"Help Daddy cum. Please, please help Daddy cum."
He smiled and nodded his head as if my plea for release was what he had really wanted all along. My humiliation was total at the realization that I was begging my own son to jack me off until I came. That knowledge made me all the hungrier for more of him.
And help his daddy cum with his pecker is exactly what he did then, sliding his strong, possessive hand up and down, up and down, up and down until I could hold back no longer and experienced the most explosive orgasm of my entire life. I cried out in purest pleasure-pain as glob after glob of hot, thick sperm ejected from my prick head. He eagerly watched the jets of sperm shoot out of my penis, and then he shifted his gaze to my face as I came, and came, and came. Through my slitted eyes, I could see his little boy's smile of triumph. He knew that I was totally and completely his now for just as long as he wanted me. He could make his daddy cum and that meant I was his.
When I had calmed down a little, he took his index finger and scooped up some of my sticky cum that had fallen onto his smooth, bare leg and he fed it to me just as naturally as if it were a glob of peanut butter. I willingly sucked and licked his finger clean and he giggled as he watched me do it.
Then he placed his small, strong hand behind my head.
"Be a good boy, Daddy" he whispered, a triumphant little smirk on his angelic young face.
I knew what I was supposed to do and I welcomed it with every fiber of my soul. I leaned way down and avidly licked the remainder of my sticky cum from his silky smooth leg. He giggled again when I did that. He liked it when I did that. He liked the absolute domination of me that went with it. He would likely make me do it to him again sometime. I prayed that he would.
Then he allowed me to sit up, raised his head, and gazed directly into my eyes.
"Don't you want to suck my pecker now, Daddy?" He said coyly, and of course, I wanted to suck his sweet little boy pecker more than anything in the whole, wide world. He knew that. He liked knowing that. I could see it in his bright eyes.
I nodded my head vigorously.
"Then say it, Daddy. Tell me what my Daddy wants."
"Yes," I breathed out the words. "Daddy wants to suck your sweet pecker, son."
Without another word, he reached his hands behind my head and pulled me right down to him.
"Be a good boy for me, Daddy, and make me cum cum."
I parted my lips and his stiff little member went right inside my mouth just as if my mouth had been made for that one purpose only. I swirled my slithery wet tongue around the boy's hard little shaft and puckered my lips around the base of it. I had never before had a male member inside my mouth, and I was so flattered that it was my own young son who was the one to be taking my oral cherry.
He pulled me tightly into his crotch so I could also take his tiny balls into my mouth as well. I was in absolute bliss, sucking and licking my son's little package. I could taste his wonderful boy taste, sweet and mellow. I could feel the tautness of his erection jabbing frantically against the back of my throat. I could smell his sweaty boy scent as he began thrusting his strong, young hips up, and up even higher as he became caught up in the lewd excitement that came with face-fucking his own dad.
He began to buck and wriggle as the onset of his orgasm took control of his being. I could feel him trying to hold back, and that made me suck and lick even more energetically. I wanted my son's sperm in my mouth more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted every last drop of it. I promised myself that, whatever it took, I would have every last drop of it, too!
And finally, he gave me exactly what I craved; what I needed; what I yearned for. And I was grateful beyond words to receive glob after glob of his hot, sweet boy sperm in my waiting mouth; more grateful than for anything I had ever before received in my entire life.
Oh yes. Now I was truly his alright. I was his good boy. I knew I was because he had cum in my mouth. I had sucked his pecker till he came and came in my mouth. I was now his to do with whatever he chose. My son had cum in my mouth, and that made me his, all his. I belonged to him completely. I didn't belong to anyone else. I didn't want to belong to anyone else.
After he had recovered from his sweet orgasm, he looked straight into my eyes.
"Tell me, Daddy, do you really love me?"
I looked down at him, reclining there on the carpet with his flaccid little member lying against his naked loins so desirable and tantalizing.
"Yes, son, I love you with all my heart".
Without warning he reached out and grabbed my growing erection in his strong, young hand. His squeezing, stroking hand made me immediately hard again. I began to whimper to him in pleasure-pain.
"That's good, Daddy. Because we are about to find out just how much you do love me. We'll find out if you love me enough to take what I'm going to do to you now that you belong to me. You do belong to me, don't you, Daddy"? You are my good little wimpy boy, aren't you, Daddy"?
The words rushed out of my mouth.
"Yes, I belong to you. I'm yours, all yours. I'm your good little wimpy boy. Do anything you want with me, son. I'm still yours for as long as you want me". I can stand it. I want it. I want it so much.
As he stroked and squeezed, and as he heard my humiliating reply to his question, he began taunting me verbally about how I was so wantonly reacting to his lewd hand job. He just kept saying again and again how sick I was to be allowing my own son to stroke me off like that, actually begging him to play with my Daddy pecker. He kept saying that he was the one calling the shots from now on and not me. He was really getting off on embarrassing and humiliating me, especially since I wasn't doing a damn thing to contradict him. And I was getting off on it, too. The embarrassment, the degradation the surrender to him.
I was totally and completely humiliated, but I was also very, very aroused at how he was treating me. How my own young son was dominating me sexually.
As he continued to play and tease, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was his to do with in any way he desired, my whimpers and moans grew more strident. There was then still some lost, weak part of me that wanted this all to end. But I couldn't stop how he made me feel. I couldn't stop wanting him, wanting to touch his smooth skin, wanting to kiss his warm, seductive mouth, wanting to lick and suck his turgid little boner. I knew it and he knew it. He had me right where he wanted me. And he wanted me right where I was; his. His, all his. His good little boy.
My erection throbbed and pearlescent little drops of pre-cum formed on the very tip of my engorged penis. I wriggled wantonly like the daddy slut I had become and humped his hand shamelessly as he giggled and stroked me, as he told me softly but firmly just what a pedo pervert I was. Then, he made me tell him that I knew exactly what kind of a pedo pervert I was, but that I couldn't quit because of what he was doing to me and because of how much I loved him and needed him. I repeated the words he made me say. I had no trouble doing that because the words were all true. I was being a very good boy.
As he continued to stroke me, he leaned over and kissed me hard on the mouth. His small tongue darting in and out between my parted lips. I was in rapture. I would have died for him at that point.
Suddenly, he stopped toying with me. I cried aloud and begged him please not to stop, not ever to stop. I told him how much I needed him and how much I needed what he was doing to me. He giggled and then started twisting my erect penis savagely in his strong little hand.
"Be a good boy and tell me how much you like what I'm doing to your pecker, Daddy. Be a good boy and tell me how much you want to be your son's wimpy little pain slut".
I said the words just exactly as he made me say them.
"I know all about you, Daddy slut. I've seen how you act around Mommy. You do everything she tells you to. I know it turns you on to obey because I've seen the bulge your pecker makes in your pants every time she bosses you around.
"Now you're going to do everything I tell you to. Aren't you, my little wimpy pain slut Daddy'? Now you're going to get a big old Daddy stiffie every time I boss you around from now on. And you'll want that more and more as we go."
I said the words again, exactly as he made me say them. As I said the humiliating words, drop after pearlescent drop of pre-cum oozed out of my penis. And as I said the words, he twisted and pulled and squeezed my erection until it became red and sore. I was becoming my son's good little pain slut. By the time he was finished with me, that would be all I would really want to be from now on.
I cried out again, and this time in purest pleasure-pain, but didn't ever want to make him stop. As he twisted and pulled hard on my erection, I felt sensations in my penis and in my balls I hadn't felt in many years. The cruel hurting he was giving me was being transformed into the most excruciating kind of pleasure.
He continued to twist, pull on, and squeeze my rock hard penis. He was having the time of his life tormenting his dad's penis. His little happy giggles proved it to me beyond doubt. What boy his age wouldn't be having the time of his life doing that to his dad?
I cried out more loudly in my blissful anguish, but came quickly to realize the pain he was giving me was awakening feelings of sick, perverted lust I hadn't felt since I myself had been a young boy about his own age, continuously tortured and tormented by some of the older boys in my neighborhood. They had never tired of forcing me to go with them into an old, abandoned house up the block. There, they would strip me naked and torture my little package until I begged them to stop, then begged all the harder for them never to stop. They never tired of laughing at me because they knew how much I loved what they did to me. I even got to the point of begging them to torture me and even offering them money to torment me. But they soon tired of me, and I had to console myself with self torture. And, after a while, even that didn't satisfy my yearnings. These yearnings had lain dormant for all those years until awakened by my young son's tormenting hands and bullying words.
All those wonderful, humiliating, long-forgotten feelings of pleasure-pain and humiliation flooded back into my consciousness as my son continued to twist and tug and squeeze. He giggled merrily as he did it to me. I was his newest play toy. In his childlike way, he was enjoying the fact that I just lay there on the carpet all defenseless and vulnerable and let him torment my erection as much as he pleased. He twisted and pulled and squeezed and twisted some more, and my cries and moans only made him want to do it all the harder.
Suddenly, he stopped his tormenting play. I whimper piteously and begin to frantically hump his hand. I needed more, and more, and more pain. I yearned for it. I begged for it.
He giggled softly and whispered into my ear that I was now his little pedo pain slut daddy. He told me I had to keep begging him to play with my pecker like that. At that point, I broke down completely and sobbed out that I knew he was right; that I was nothing but his little pedo pain slut daddy who needed him to torment me and never stop tormenting me. I lay there on my back and begged and begged.
Then he told me in no uncertain terms that he would not continue playing with me until I begged him on my knees to torment my penis some more. I suddenly became very frightened of him. I tried my best to get up off the carpet and run from him. But I just couldn't make myself do it. I was too far gone by then. He could see the total surrender in my downcast eyes, and he rewarded me with another long, tongue kiss. I invited his possessive tongue deep into my mouth and twirled my own submissive tongue around it to show him that I was his.
When he finally broke the kiss, I obediently raised up off the floor and got down on my knees in front of my son and begged him as submissively and as hard as I knew how to torment me again, to hurt me in any way he chose.
After what seemed like an hour of my piteous pleading and begging, he reached out and began twisting and squeezing me once more between my legs. It was simply wonderful to be his, all his, once more!
As he twisted, pulled, and squeezed my painful erection, he began talking to me, softly, firmly. He assured me that I was always going to be his little daddy pain slut. Even when his mom came home. He would always find times and places to play with me, and hurt me, and make me do sick things to him. I was totally humiliated by the way he was treating me, by the obvious ways in which he let me know that he owned me, but all I could do was to continue to beg him please never to stop.
I said it over and over, "I'm your Daddy pain slut. Any time, any place, anywhere."
As the pain in my erection increased, tears streamed from my eyes, yet I still did not try to make him stop what he was doing. After a while I noticed that he was beginning to use his sharp little fingernails on the underside of my penis. I squealed in pain, but my erection did not wilt one bit.
He giggled and told me to stay on all fours, that he had a special treat for me. I immediately assumed an even more rigid stance, just as he commanded. He stopped tormenting my penis, and, in response to my piteous whimpers, he told me that if I was a good boy he would hurt my pecker some more, later.
As I knelt there on all fours, he stood up, walked in front of me, and pressed his sweet young package tight against my upturned face. I whimpered and shuddered just like a bitch in heat at the silky feel and potent smell of him. Then, he rubbed his slick little prick head back and forth against my parched lips. I knew without his saying a word what I must do and I slavishly parted my lips to allow his hard young erection inside my waiting mouth once more.
I whimpered softly and contentedly and looked adoringly up at him as my young son slowly and deliberately face fucked me. He thrust his hips toward me, then slowly rotated them so that his pecker was screwing my mouth just as if it were a vagina. I sucked and licked his divine young penis while he patted my head and told me what a good daddy slut I was. He put his hands behind my head and pressed my flushed face tight against his crotch. He humped his hips, driving his erection deep into my throat. I gagged, but continued to suck and lick.
As I sucked him off, he told me over and over again what a good boy I was. He only stopped saying that just as he was cumming into my mouth. I was totally in rapture to think I had made my little boy cum again.
Within less than one day I had become a thoroughly submissive and docile daddy slut, devotedly sucking a yummy load of boy cum right out of my own young son's penis; devotedly begging him to torment my throbbing erection, devotedly telling him that I was his, all his.
For that one brief moment after his orgasm, his own sex hunger had been satiated, so he moved around behind me, grabbed my erect penis from between my legs, and began to twist, pull, and squeeze it once again. Yet again I cried out in pleasure-pain and I began to try to hump his tormenting little hand. He laughed at my frustrated attempts to orgasm and used his free hand to pinch and slap my naked buttocks.
I wriggled like an eel and moaned like a horny slut as my son dominated me totally.
His torment finally made me cum, but the spurt of sperm was so weak that it made him laugh out loud.
"Is that all you can do after only one big cum, Daddy?" he taunted me. "You're such a wimp."
As he played with and absently fondled my flaccid penis and shrunken balls he told me that I would have to do much better than that in the future, and that he would accompany me to my doctor to get me a nice testosterone shot. He said he might even tell the doctor exactly why I needed the shot. I was frightened that he might really do that, but intrigued also.
He laughed at how quickly my erection had withered after my second orgasm of the day, and told me that he would have to ask my doctor to prescribe Viagra or something like it for me so that I would stay erect longer so he could torment him more. He thought the doctor would find the prospect of an eleven-year-old boy sexually dominating his dad amusing, and might even be persuaded to join in the fun.
He also told me that he and I must soon go to a drug store where I would buy a cath kit so he could cath me. He said the level of pain he planned to give me that way would make me cum ever so much harder. He had read all about how to do it on a gay web site and he just couldn't wait to try it out on me.
He also told me he was planning to bring a couple of his best friends over to the house so he could show me off to them. He said he was thinking about how much money his buddies might come up with for the privilege of having some fun with me.
I was shocked and humiliated by his cruel words and his sick, perverted plans for me, but I could do nothing but surrender to his lecherous whims, knowing that obeying him totally would be my only way to convince him to allow me to experience those electric, pleasure-pain-filled thrills that kept me bound to him.
The last thing he told me before he sent me to my room that Saturday morning was that, by the time my wife got back from her three-week trip he would have me so well trained that she wouldn't want anything to do with me. That prospect made me hard again, and when he saw my erection, he just laughed and laughed.
That night, as we lay together naked in my bed and his turgid little member drilled into my willing mouth and my virgin bottom hole and then his cruel hands caused my body to writhe and wriggle in excruciating, blissful agony, he continued to laugh at me, and laugh, and laugh. By the end of that second night I had become his favorite plaything. He told me over and over again as he degraded and humiliated me with ever more wanton orders. And his favorite plaything I was proud to be. After all, he was my own son, wasn't he?
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Pepper can be reached at: pepper3012004@Yahoo.com