“Let me fuck that slut mouth.”

“You think it'll fit, Dad?” I ask, while flexing my tongue wide across the underside of his cock and licking up to the crown. His answer is to flex the hand on my head and when my mouth reaches his crown, he grips firmly, shoving me down on it.

In one smooth, fluidic motion, Dad proves that his cock will fit, because he can make me take it. His cock spears downward, sweeping into my throat so fast and hard that his hips hit my cheeks with a crisp smack! as his balls swing against my chin.

My eyes flutter wide as I stare at Dad's wiry curls and the firm skin at his hilt. Dad doesn't hesitate, curling his fingers into my hair and holding me steady as he sways backward. His motions are like flowing water, in the fiercest manner possible.

He slides back until only the crown remains, then accelerates back into my mouth with a hard crash. My cheeks warm for the harsh slap of his hips against them, so hard it stings. I moan softly, looking up at Dad as his eyes focus down upon me.

“Fits just fine, slut!” Dad smirks smugly, “Hands on my hips and take it, faggot!” My hands obediently lift to Dad's hips, as I slide his pants down a bit further to ease his use of me. I moan softly on his cock, vibrating him pleasurably as he pulls out.

I inhale fast when his crown reaches my lips, so large it fills my mouth, by itself. My throat stretches to conform around it, as Dad's cock slams back into me, far down my throat. My lips and throat stretch taut to accommodate something so large.

I don't gag on his cock, which is fortunate for me. My eyes water from the stinging sensation of his cock forcing me open, but I adapt fast. I don't choke or cough, I simply do the only thing I can do, as Dad establishes a fierce, demanding rhythm.

Dad doesn't slow down, even as he notes the tears on my face. He simply maintains the iron grip on my hair, his flavour on my tongue and his scent filling my lungs at every breath. Dad groans in pleasure, looking down at my teary-eyed features.

“Bite me if you need me to stop, faggot!” Dad commands. My jaw forced open wide around him, I could still bite down, but it would be weak. Probably the reason he told me to bite him: as big as he is, I couldn't bite him hard enough for it to hurt.

Need is not the word, though, so I don't try to bite him. I slide my hands further around his hips, splaying my fingers back, to the firm gluteal musculature. Steadying myself for Dad's use, I look up at him, resolving to let Dad use me as he pleases.

“There's a good whore!” Dad praises me fiercely, his voice almost a growl of pride and satisfaction as he hammers himself into my throat, using me hard. His hips don't so much jerk as flow rapidly, forward and backward, in smooth revolutions.

My throat flexes around him, conforming to the shape of his cock every time he drives himself down into it, pulling back, then driving in again. I swallow when his balls hit my chin and his hips slap against my cheeks, steadily reddening them.

I moan as his hips withdraw, vibrating his leaving cock as I empty my lungs so I can take a breath once my airways aren't blocked. As I do, I realise that his pace, as fast and hard as it is, is intentionally giving me ample time to keep my lungs full.

I flex my tongue wide against his underside, thanking him the only way I can, but voluntarily working my tongue for him. Dad's smile down at me broadens immediately, as soon as he feels my tongue contributing to the task of making him cum.

“There you go, that's my fucking faggot!” Dad growls proudly, “Keep that up and you'll earn a whole lot more milk, slut!” His words are practically a challenge. I suck his cock as hard as I can in spite of the ferocious pace of him skull-fucking me.

Author's Note:
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