Nastily!

Dad maintains his hammering pace, pounding into my throat as smooth and easy as a piston locked into its housing as the engine revs. I keep my own dark brown eyes riveted on his, receptive and servile to the Dad's needs, and those of his meat.

I moan soft, as his thick shaft pounds down my throat in fast, hard strokes, driving across the sensitive nerves. Dad knows exactly what to hit, the precise angle he needs. I can feel my own arousal bubbling under the continued, slamming thrusts.

“You are liking this, aren't you, slut?” Dad growls the words as his eyes flick down to my cock and then return to my own, with a smug tilt of his lips. “I bet you'd even like it if I kicked you, right now, you little whore.” My brows furrow as I stare.

Dad doesn't offer me a chance to rebut, before one foot jerks, and he kicks me in the balls. My eyes widen and I choke and gag on his cock as he continues to slam in. I moan, defenceless, as he delivers a strike of swift sharpness, and I arch, bodily.

My own cock flexes above it. I moan around him, as I catch my breath around his cock, recovering as Dad suddenly yanks, pulling my mouth up. His eyes flick to my cock, then back to my eyes, “You're glistening with arousal, you fucking faggot!”

He forces my head to tilt down, so I have no choice but to look and let it register in my brain. Dad kicked me hard, right in the nuts, and it didn't soften. It's achingly hard, as Dad shoves back in my mouth, and resumes fucking my face for a while.

“Mm-mph!” I moan when he pulls my head off again, looking up at him, “Dad, that hurt!” He smirks at me, his lips pulling a bit to the left, an expression of smug confidence. Dad doesn't simply let me protest, he kicks me the same as the last one.

“You like it, though, don't you, slut?” Dad challenges, “You like kneeling before your Dad, letting him use you as the little whore you are, while he kicks you in the balls?” Dad punctuates the challenge with another kick, and I moan on his shaft.

“Yes!” I admit, embarrassed, as he pulls my mouth off his cock to demand I answer, “Harder, Dad!” He yanks my hair hard, as he thrusts, slamming himself back to the hilt in my mouth. I groan until Dad kicks me in the nuts, this strike far harder.

I choke on Dad's cock, my eyes watering and my hands flexing against his hips. I dig my fingers in, clinging helplessly even as his hips don't offer me any respite. My throat convulses around Dad's thickness as he only continues to skull-fuck me.

Achingly aroused, Dad has me teetering, and I am fairly certain he knows it. Dad maintains eye contact, his smile wicked in its sweetness, as he slams into me, down my throat. He lets me recover for a few minutes more, edging me as he does.

Then another hard kick in the balls, and my hands flex and I clutch at him, cling to him. My cock pulses as Dad slams into me, as Dad's eyes flick down, then back to mine. Another, even harder kick in the balls, and Dad growls, “Cum, you slut!”

Almost on command, my cock starts to pulse hard, and the first thick rope pumps out of me as I'm choking on Dad's thick phallic muscle. My eyes water even as I release, gasping for air as I cough around Dad's meat. Dad slows down to let me.

Nine times, I deposit thick stripes of my own release on the floor, stretched from between and a few centimetres behind his ankles, to well further. Once my pulsations end, Dad resumes fucking my mouth, a smug grin on his handsome face.

“Knew it,” Dad snickers with satisfaction, “Such a fucking faggot.” He doesn't hesitate to use me, but he doesn't kick me, again. My balls get to rest, as my cock softens and the last drop of my own release drips onto the floor directly under it.

He holds himself back for only ten minutes more, before he holds my mouth at his crown. One thick rope after another, Dad fills my mouth with his release, and I snake my arms around him. I cling to him, drinking greedily from Dad's cock.

Dad smiles down at me, stroking my hair lovingly, his touch now sweet and affectionate, his smile pure and warm. Once I lick the last drop from his crown, he releases my head, and points down. “There's more cream for you on the floor, slut.”

“I recognise milk when I see it, you've inherited the trait,” Dad says, then his voice hardens as he orders me, “Mop it up. Lick up every drop of it before it stains the hardwood of our new service room.” My cheeks warm, but I bend obediently.

I brush my fingers across my crown, making sure I'm clean, and slip my finger into my mouth. I taste all right, sweet for sure, and creamy. Dad's is far better. I bend, anyway, positioning myself over the stripes I've left, and licking them up.

The dense white cream comes up easy, and I eat from the floor, blushing and embarrassed. It's a shock that I came from Dad literally fucking my throat and kicking me in the balls, but I won't complain. Dad smiles down at me, and crouches.

“You're a good boy, faggot,” Dad strokes my hair, “I really am proud of you. You're such a good slut. Now, come on. Your mother should be home soon. I am going to watch some television, and you can worship my cock some more, if you like.”

Dad stands, and holds a hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me up. He turns, and I follow him to the living room, where he moves to collect the remote, and sit in his loveseat. I lower onto my hands and knees as Dad ignores me, and crawl in.

“I will be watching television, now. You are to remain silent. I will ignore your presence entirely,” Dad warns me, without looking down as he turns the television on. Television on has always been quiet time in the house, so I'm a little used to it.

Kneeling between Dad's parted legs, I lean close, and lovingly lick him from the hilt to the crown. My eyes focus on his for a few moments, but as he said he would, Dad ignores me entirely. Right now, he is watching television and I am irrelevant.

I am simply another creature comfort of the living room, performing the intended function. I mute myself, maintaining a level of absolute, determined silence, as I kiss my way softly down Dad's cock. For fear of making sound, I switch to licking.

I lick my way up his shaft, silent, breathing in the scent of him, my silence absolute. After twenty minutes, Dad makes the subtlest gesture of approval. He sets the remote on the end-table beside his chair, and then drapes his hand atop my head.

I'm little more than a place for his hand to rest now, but the touch is there. I stroke lovingly, lavishing every millimetre of his beautiful phallus with the touch of my tongue. His cock stands hard and proud, glistening in the light from my efforts.

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