In My Mouth

Dad slid free of me, then circled around. I looked up, watching Dad stroke his cock in fast, hard movements, as I make eye contact. Dad angles his cock down, aiming at my open mouth, and the first pulse jets past my lips, landing on my tongue.

I moan softly, happily, Dad's seed lands, one pulse and then the next. I tilt my head to hold more, letting six ropes of milk accumulate before I swallow it all. Twice more I swallow, taking it into my belly, before Dad's fingers move in a slow drag.

The last dollop of his cream accumulates on his tip, and he brushes it off with his thumb. Then, he drags his thumb across my lower lip, delivering the last vestige to my mouth. I smile up at him, licking my lips and swallowing every drop of him.

“Thank you, Dad,” I smile at him lovingly, as he slaps his cock on the side of my face a few time. I take it, happily, without a care or complaint in the world. Dad's love is different, now, yet no less precious to me for the newfound salacity of life.

Dad sets his hand on my head, caressing fingers sliding into my hair. He massages my scalp with a gentle motion, and then he slowly traces down to my cheek. Dad cups my cheek with his palm, thumb stroking across my cheekbone, as he smiles.

“I want you to know that you have made a good decision about the direction of your life, slut,” Dad tells me affectionately, his smile deep and warm. “You will be well-fed. Your mother and I, and the twins, will absolutely make certain of that.”

“You will always be well-cared-for, accepted and approved of for being the faggot you are,” Dad promises me, earnestly, continuing to caress my cheek with his thumb. “You'll never need to feel shame or worry about who you are, again, fag.”

He brushes his cock across my other cheek, as a reinforcement of my station, my role in life. It's an irrevocable changing of my life, there'll never be a path back, not from this. This is, better or worse, what the rest of my life is going to be like.

Yet I feel only contentment, smiling up at Dad reverently as he caresses both sides of my face. My lungs fill with the soft, warm aroma of him. “Now, faggot. You need your rest. It is time for you to sleep. We'll let you have milk for breakfast.”

It takes a moment for that to register. Milk. Confirmation that the only thing I'll be eating from now on, probably, will be cock, lots of cock. I'll have to get used to drinking electrolytes, because one thing cock milk won't provide me is hydration.

It isn't salty, like the release of most human men. It has no saline density to it. Yet it also isn't a sufficient source of actual hydration, either. It'll moisturise my skin, certainly, but even if I drink a gallon of cock milk, it still wouldn't hydrate me.

For now, I follow Dad's command, snuggling into my bed and letting myself simply ... drift ...

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges in Chapter 32: Alone, Early Morning.