Dad Relaxes

“That's it, faggot,” Dad sighs in satisfaction, without breaking his attention from the TV, “Show me what a fag you are.” My mouth presses firmly against Dad's cock as I kiss it, kiss after kiss, working my way down to those large, heavy balls.

I lick my way up his shaft as he turns on the news, and I hear a familiar newscaster start reporting. The state of the nation isn't great right now, but it no longer matters to me. My reprogramming makes me better able to focus on doing my job.

Dad rests one hand on the armrest, the other on the remote control as he watches television. My entire mind is focused on my duties. Kneeling nude before my father, the rewiring in my brain tells me, is where I belong, now, when he so desires.

I listen to the news as I work on his cock, reports on a failing economy, high inflation, propagandist prognostications of a collapsing dream of American family units. Kneeling nude in the living room licking my Dad's cock, I don't feel that last.

Dad's free hand shifts subtly from the armrest to my head, but he doesn't shove my head onto his cock. He simply rests it there, like I'm furniture that's licking his prick. I continue worshipping my father's meat, sliding my lips down the length.

Kissing my way down, gentle caresses of my tongue sliding up, my brain rewiring to rationalise the new normal as I kneel. My eyes remain focused on Dad's face, looking up at him reverently while I lick and kiss his cock, even as Dad ignores me.

My tongue is soaked in his flavour, my lungs filled with his scent, and I'm enjoying both. I lick lovingly from the hilt to the crown, then kiss my way back to his balls. It seems only natural that I should worship my Dad. He's always been fantastic.

“You really love getting your mouth on my cock, don't you, faggot?” Dad asks finally, after about forty minutes, when he finally glances down at me. “You love being stripped bare, on your knees, being used like you're nothing but a slut, fag?”

“Mm-Hmm!” I hum in answer against his cock as I lick my way up the underside, grinding my tongue against the sensitive frenulum at the helm. I feel good about the taste and scent of him drowning my senses, and the satisfied smile on his face.

“Good,” he says with satisfaction, turning off the television as we hear the sound of Mom's car pull into the garage, “You'll be getting a lot of this from now on. Suck my cock until your mother comes in. She'll want to use you immediately, fag.”

My brain rewires and I don't even think about it. I simply arch my spine and lift my hips, bringing my mouth to his crown, and wrapping my lips around him. I slide my mouth down to his hilt and begin bobbing my head on Dad's cock in silence.

“That's it, faggot, suck my dick like the little cock-slut you are,” Dad sighs in satisfaction as we hear the garage door open, then shut, and then footsteps. “Welcome home, dear. We're in the living room. The little fag is profoundly satisfactory.”

“Mm, I can see that,” Mom hums cheerfully from the broad, high doorway between the kitchen and living room. “You've gotten off already?” Dad gives an immediate affirmation.

“Yea, just wanted to make sure you came home to a nice view of our new and improved home life, love,” Dad replies, with his fingers in my hair, pulling me up off his cock. “Go tend to your mother, faggot. I've had two, it's her turn to have two.”

I obediently crawl to my mother on my hands and knees, lifting my head to her already-out cock and kissing the crown of her hardening meat, “Welcome home, Mom.”

Author's Note:
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