Holstered

Over the course of two hours, I devote every iota of my attention to Dad's cock. My eyes focused on his, I stare up at him as I lovingly work my mouth down his cock, then rise up again. I moan, an audible indication of my enjoyment of his flavour.

He told me to suck his cock, so I won't dare take my mouth off his meat, not even to praise the taste of him. I slide my lips to his hilt, holding myself down while I swallow around his prick, flexing my tongue wide against the hilt suppressing it.

One does not so much suck a cock this massive as one simply takes it and lets it use your mouth as a stretched-taut sleeve. My eyes remain focused on his, however, maintaining eye contact. Dad keeps his eyes down on mine, with a bright smile.

Dad is not a man who smiles at much, so knowing that this makes him smile is a huge encouragement. I love him as much as any son should love his Dad, so making him smile? Reward in itself. I can see how proud of me he is, as he smiles at me.

“All the way down, faggot,” Dad orders, as I grind the tip of my tongue against his frenulum, and I moan immediately and inhale, sliding down obediently. “Going to give you a firm shove now, slut.” I look up as he says this, my lips on his hilt.

Then he bucks his hips and shoves my head down with all the force he dares, and my eyes flutter as his balls are slammed past my lips. My eyes focus on the only thing I can see, the toned flesh and wiry curls of dark hair that rest at Dad's base.

“Suck my balls, slut,” Dad orders, and I immediately flex my tongue against the jewels suppressing them. They're far more permissive of motion. I groan softly around his cock and swallow on it, as I start to enthusiastically suck on his heavy nuts.

I can hear him moan above me, even before the first jet of his cum pumps into a throat conforming to his shape. I can feel him so deep that he's more than halfway to my stomach. The thick cream pulsing into me, I swallow on him at each pulse.

“That's it, faggot, milk my cock, you hungry little whore,” Dad growls, pumping his warm, heavy milk directly into me, as I obediently continue to swallow. The muscles in my throat stroke his shaft from the hilt all the way to the crown, moaning.

I've always been good at holding my breath, and for a little over two minutes, Dad obstructs my airways with his thick rod. His monstrous phallus stretches my throat, and I'm sure anyone seeing us would be able to see his cock fully impaling me.

I can only suck on his jewels and swallow on that shaft, vibrating him with faint moans that fail to even reach my own ears as I do it. More than a dozen pulses, over around two minutes, before the meat in my throat finally finishes its pulsations.

Dad pulls my hair, firm yet not harsh, dragging my head upwards until his balls slide out of my mouth. Soundless, smooth, and soft, my lips slide up his shaft as he pulls my head up forcefully by my hair, yet not hard enough for my scalp to sting.

I gasp for air around him, flooding my lungs with his warm, musky aroma, as soon as my throat is clear enough to breathe once more. He strokes my hair, and as I look up, I find his eyes are already on mine, a proud, approving smile on his face.

“I'm so proud of you, faggot, you didn't resist, not even a little,” Dad praises me, “You took every drop, and you would do it again in a heartbeat, wouldn't you?” I moan in confirmation, and his fingers massage my scalp with unmistakable love.

“Good, because you will, in a moment,” Dad tells me, authoritatively, as he pulls my mouth up from his cock and lets my mouth empty, before nudging my balls with his foot. “Back up, slut.” I scoot back immediately, his hand still in my hair.

“Good, faggot,” Dad praises, standing up in front of me, his rock-hard prick still dominating my vision, even as I maintain eye contact with him, “Now since you've been such an exceptional little whore, I'm going to give you a special privilege.”

“You can either request a promise that my next load will be fed to you,” Dad tells me, “or you can ask for me to use you in a specific way for my second round. Which will it be, faggot?” I smile up at him lovingly as he calls me names, licking him.

“Please feed me more, Dad?” I beg, unashamed, “May I please know what your cum tastes like, next time, Dad? Possibly?” The smile that answer my pleading tone and earnest request is one where his flawless teeth gleam in the artificial lights.

“I promise, faggot,” Dad assures me, stroking my hair lovingly, “My next load will be in your mouth, and I'll let you taste. Remember that that is a privilege, however, and not a right.” I reverently lick my Dad's cock again, nodding in response.

Author's Note:
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