Bit of both, really!

I moan, as Dad forces my mouth to his hilt, then pulls back, swift and hard. He slams in before I have a chance to inhale on him, then pulls out before I can swallow or moan. My eyes flutter up at him, as he stares down into my eyes, slamming me.

“Mm ... mm?” I moan questioningly, but Dad ignores me, his fingers tight in my hair, simply wrenching my head back then forward. His hips synced with his hands, Dad fucks my mouth with such fast, hard ferocity, my eyes widen as I moan, loud.

I can hear my volume alter in waves, loud then soft then loud once more, because of Dad's slamming hips. He doesn't go at a pace that lets me swallow around his hilt, or synchronise my breathing to his massively accelerated pace of hammering.

Hands on Dad's hips, I look up, my dark brown eyes riveted to his. The lust in his gaze now is unmistakable, and I feel as if I would hyperventilate if I tried to breathe with it. Dad forces me to breathe faster, on and around his shaft, as he allows.

“Take it, you little incubus faggot!” Dad snarls with arousal and need, his monstrous rod ramming through my lips at a far faster rate. I don't know if I am being rewarded for seductiveness, rebuked for it, or he's demonstrating his own prowess.

It scarce matters, as I have now little choice but to endure it, to let him ruin me. His iron hold on my hair makes me whine on his cock every time he moves, wrenching my hair one direction, then the other. My eyes widen, and water from pain.

“Found your limit, have we, you little whore?!” Dad snarls salaciously, his lips curved into a vicious, triumphant, beaming grin that makes me quiver, and my heart race. I make no effort to bite, no effort to push him off, I simply let Dad ram me.

Yet even as he does, I can start to feel not only power, but the remnant embrace of restraint. His self-control may be at an all-time low, but it isn't just gone, not yet, for which I am thankful. Even now, Dad's hips are not slapping against my face.

Access to air is abundant, I simply need to adjust to breathing in across several hard thrusts. Breathing out offers a similar challenge, but easier. Compressing my own chest forces air out, but expanding it doesn't guarantee air will flow inside me.

His hard, ramming slams continue to force my eyes to water, and soon my vision is too blurred for eye contact. I feel tears run down my cheeks, but Dad's hips don't cease. His hips move like a hammer as Dad pounds my throat like a blacksmith.

The air vibrates with the wet thwack of his cock down my throat, moans of arousal from us both, and my whines of pain as he wrenches my hair. I can feel him start to pulse, but he doesn't slow down. Instead, Dad only snarls at me, loud, lustful.

Yet every thrust is more controlled than the last, as if Dad is bleeding frustration by using me. I blink rapidly, bringing my hands to my face, slipping my fingers between his pounding hips and my eyes. I close my eyes, brushing tears from them.

I can feel the slow shift, though, as if the wrath and ruin of his brutal slamming of my mouth is venting Dad's most brutal energies. I simply have to endure the consequences of my actions, taking it as hips pummel relentlessly against my mouth.

“Fuck, yes!” Dad growls, and I can hear the exact moment self-control and composure overtake temptation and intensity. His force remains, but each drive lengthens, forcing me to readjust, breathing properly around his monumental rod again.

His hold on me transitions slow, from my hair to my scalp, from wrenching one to cupping the other. My eyes flutter up at him, once they're clear of tears, and I moan loud as his cock slides back. His lengthening drive lets me reclaim my balance.

Dad beams down at me, as his thick rod pulses harder and harder as it saws down the length of my tongue. I breathe in his aroma, until his meat slides down my throat, forcing me to hold my breath. As a swimmer, that's scarcely even a challenge.

I moan for him, each time he slides out, flexing my suppressed tongue each time he slams across it. This time, when Dad's hands shove my head down and bucks his hips, I am ready. I start to suck hard, as soon as his balls ram in onto my tongue.

Dense cream flooding the lowest quarter of my throat, I swallow hard around Dad's phallic monster. His nuts taste a little different than his cock, I notice, but the flavour is similar. The texture is different, but not bad, as I stroke with my tongue.

Dad holds my head down for a few heartbeats past the three-minute mark, as I kneel, swallowing around him. He keeps his hands locked, his pressure firm, until I pat his thighs in a fast, 1-2 succession. Dad pulls me up from his balls, immediately.

I moan as he slides my mouth up his cock, emptying my lungs. As soon as my airways are clear, I inhale hard around him, lifting my eyes to restore eye contact. Dad is beaming down at me, his teeth gleaming bright under artificial electric lights.

“Good, slut? I didn't want to ruin it by pulling out too soon!” he teases, as his hands guide my mouth up until he slides out, entirely. I wipe my mouth gently, then grin up at him, as one hand leaves my head, the other stroking through my hair.

“I don't know, was it good for you? How was I, Dad?” I ask. Dad continues to beam down at me, a smile like sweet sunlight. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. He taps my other cheek with his cock, by way of his response.

“You're an amazing little slut, faggot,” Dad answers, stroking my face with his thumb on one side, his thick cock brushing across the other, “You're an excellent sleeve. I'm very proud of you.” My cheeks warm, and I nuzzle into his shaft lovingly.

“Now, your mother should be home soon. I'm going to watch some television, faggot,” Dad says, stepping back, and yet he makes no move to put his cock away. “Come, fag. You can worship my dick until your mother gets home, I think.”

“Yes, Dad!” I get up quickly and follow my Dad to the living room, kneeling in front of him as he sits in his love-seat and he turns on the television. He ignores me as I apply my mouth to his cock again, licking and kissing his thick, monstrous rod.

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges in Chapter 15: Dad Relaxes.