Beloved Son

A few minutes later, I hear Dad's footsteps, and I spread my legs. looking over my shoulder. He walks into the room and he smiles at me, letting his eyes rake my body. Not in the paternal, loving way he used to, but in a horny, entitled manner.

He climbs onto the bed, his cock hard, oiled, and ready, as he moves on top of me. Dad looks down at me, but the gaze isn't one of contempt or disgust. One arm loops around my neck and his palm presses to my chest over my heart, pressure firm.

The other hand slides between us, cupping my ass, squeezing one cheek, then the other. Dad smiles at me affectionately as he kisses the side of my face. “I'm sorry I never realised what a fucking faggot you are, how much you deserved this, fag.”

“It's okay, Dad,” I answer, as he looks into my eyes expectantly. I feel the crown of his cock as he uses one hand to adjust his angle, and then he pushes in. I bite my lower lip, my eyes fluttering as Dad's cock slides into me, his entire massive rod.

“Fuck, Dad!” I moan involuntarily as the crown, and then more, grind across my prostate. Dad's free hand slides up and he cups my cheek, turning my head so I can maintain eye contact. He pulls out, slow and smooth, then drives himself back in.

“That's it, faggot, moan my name,” Dad whispers in my ear, keeping his eyes on mine. I never expected him to care about me like this, but as his hips pull back, and push in, his pace is sweet and slow, pumping me in a smooth, rhythmic manner.

“I won't always go so easy on you,” Dad warns me softly, looking into my eyes, “but you're still my son and I love you, fag. So I'm going to show you that, in the way you deserve, from now on. I will, just sometimes, use you gently. Passionately.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I answer, smiling up at him as he continues fucking me, acknowledging me for what I am. I feel seen by it, appreciated, even respected, for being what I am, for accepting what I am, for taking my appropriate place in the world.

“Oh, Dad!” I moan involuntarily as he grinds hard against my prostate, fucking me as if he really wants me to enjoy him, and he smirks smugly at my pleasure. One hand cupping my face, the other over my heart, his hips pump into me slow.

“That's it, my brainwashed little faggot slut of a son,” Dad encourages me, as my hips start to roll involuntarily in return, matching my Dad's rhythm as he rides me. I moan in pleasure, biting my lower lip as my Dad maintains our eye contact.

For two hours, Dad's muscles flex as he fucks me, not hard enough to make our bodies slap together with an audible slap, but slow, passionate, and intense. Halfway through, Dad rolls me onto my back on his cock, watching me as he fucks me.

He makes me cum on my stomach and chest shortly afterwards, a good sized load. The first shot hits me in the face, right on my left side, crossing over my eye and trailing over my jawline. Dad grins at me as he simply continues pumping me.

“Where do you want it, faggot?” Dad asks as his cock starts to pulse.

“Feed me, Dad!” I answer, and Dad grins at me, sliding himself out of my ass.

Author's Note:
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