“Gonna fuck that mouth, now, faggot,”

Dad tells me, “Scoot back. Hands and knees, now.” Immediately, I put my palms on the floor between his feet, and raise my hips, repositioning to back up on all fours. I keep my head raised, my eyes upturned to maintain eye contact, while I obey.

“Scale of 1 to 10, faggot,” Dad says, stepping forward and positioning himself in front of me, angling his cock down so that his crown rests on my lips, “How hard do you want it, and how hard do you think you could take it, if I prioritise myself?”

“Want? Uh ... maybe 7?” I answer, murmuring against his crown, offering sensual vibrations that Dad bites his lip and just visibly savours, “Take? I mean, I'm assuming 10 won't kill me, so, 10. I can take anything you need. Choose yourself, Dad!”

“What do you want, Dad? What do you need?” I ask. Dad brushes the backs of his fingers across my cheek, looking down at me and smiling, before he gives me a firm, solid slap, enough to sting and make my cheek turn pink as he smiles at me.

“Gods, such a little fucking slut, aren't you?” Dad mocks me, a mischievous shimmer in his eye, as he slaps me on my other cheek, too. “Whatever you want, Daddy, whatever you need, Daddy, use me however you see fit, Daddy. Ten it is, faggot!”

I just grin up at him as his fingers slide across my pink cheeks and into my hair, and cradle my head. His grip is firm, but not iron-harsh. Dad's hips snap forward, thrusting hard, ramming himself straight down my throat in one ruthless slam.

My eyes flutter wide, staring up at him, as Dad's balls hit my chin with a crisp smack. I moan softly as he pulls out of my mouth, breathing in as soon as my airways are clear. Every hammering slam is ferocious, and his pace is like a racehorse.

Most remarkable of all, at least to me, as his warm, musky aroma floods my lungs, is his control. His fingers remain a soft, firm cradle, even as his hips slam in, like a piston hammering into a cylinder. My eyes flutter up at him, staring up in awe.

Dad's fingers flex against my scalp, massaging even as they remain firm. He smiles at me, practically glowing with pride, as he fucks my mouth at full force, every motion smooth, fluidic. “If anyone does this as they're fucking your mouth ...”

His hips abruptly snap forward, so hard his balls thump against my chin and his hips crack against my cheeks. I grunt in pain, it feels as if he just slapped me on both sides of my face at the same time. He snaps his hips back, pulling out, again.

“Know that motherfucker either doesn't care about their partner, or isn't very good at this,” Dad tells me with a broad, smug smirk, “The only way I will ever fuck your mouth like that is if you literally beg me, Daddy, please, welt my face!”

I blink up at him, having not expected Dad to make a wisecrack while fucking my mouth. I giggle uncontrollably until I start choking and coughing around his cock. Dad doesn't pull out, he simply resumes his smooth, swaying hammering.

“You're okay, faggot!” Dad grins at me, “Yea! You're a good little slut! Take it, you cute bitch!” Even without pulling out, Dad's rhythm makes it extremely easy for me to catch my breath and recover. I slip my arms around his hips more fully.

I don't push, and I don't pull. I let Dad continue to have utter control over his own body, and mine. I cup the musculature of his gluts, sliding my hands up and down, simply to encourage him. Dad's hips never slow, as his cock stretches my lips.

“Fuck, you're such a natural talent, slut!” Dad moans the words, soft and sure, before he growls with arousal, the sound a low, warm rumble in the air between us. “I am so proud of you, faggot! Your mouth is absolutely fucking magnificent!”

I can feel the tenderness in his hold on my head: firm, but cupping, steadying. He's not using anywhere near the amount of muscle he could be using. I know how strong Dad's hands are, how much power is hidden behind this nurturing cradle.

Each time his hips withdraw, I moan, draining the air from my lungs for his pleasure. I breathe in, as soon as his cock has left my throat, flooding my lungs anew with his warm, musky aroma. His eyes remained riveted to mine, smiling brightly.

The low, aroused moan that fills my ears makes me want it more, want this more. I lean into it, swaying my body with his, as I learn his rhythm. Dad gasps soft in pleasure, his fingers flexing hard against my skull, just for a second, then relaxing.

“Fuck, yes! Lean into it, you faggot!” Dad orders, reaffirming, “You're desperate for this, aren't you? You little faggot slut!” Dad's command forces my brainwashed mind and body into attunement, into synchronicity, and I sway hard against him.

Our bodies moving in unison, I moan as loud as my vocal chords can handle without overexertion, for him. His pleasure is palpable in the heat of his thick cock suppressing my tongue, the pulse of a heartbeat I can feel from his monstrous rod.

“You're such a natural at this, slut!” Dad growls the words, “but don't think I'm going to give you another load too easily! You're going to earn it!” I know Dad has the stamina, but somehow, earning it sounds more like its a reward, too, in itself.