Daddy's Little Boy -- Chapter 2

As I slipped into a pair of jeans, sans underwear, I thought to myself 'If this young man is going to make a move I don't want him to have to work too hard'. When I turned to go back out Chris was standing at the door. His thumbs were hooked in the waist of his jeans.

"The rest looked nice too, dad. And this room -- it's way too sexy. How do you sleep in here. I'd have a hard on all night."

"I do. Have a hard on, and still sleep. They're all just fantasy. Makes it fun to crawl in bed at night, even when I'm by myself." I winked at him and waved a hand, inviting him in to get a good look at my collection of studs.

I guess I was breaking my rule. This was sort of a come on on my part. But, hell, he was already at the door and had seen the nude male flesh decor. Chris moved into the room, stopping beside me. Slipping an arm around my bare waist he snuggled in. Studying the walls he slowly turned us a full 360, not making a sound. He was so damn warm and soft. I couldn't help myself as I slid an arm around his shoulders as we twirled. Leaning over I brushed my lips along his neck, under his ear.

Chris shivered and let out another of those 'oo's. "Do that again, dad. Please!" His voice was soft, more tenor than baritone, natural.

When I complied he turned into me bringing his lips to meet mine. They met, just touching. His eyes were closed. He let the tip of his tongue move across my lips, gently exploring. Leaning his head back he ran his tongue up only my nose. The sexy little shit was giving me a nasal rim job that made me let my breath out in an appreciative airy whistle. His arms were around my chest holding tight. Except for there we were just brushing against each other. Me not willing to make a bold move. Chris seeming to thrill in the light sensual touching. His tongue and lips were on my face, legs and groin letting denim rum on denim and then slide away, teasing.

He was nibbling on an ear. "Do you like me?" He stuck his tongue in, wiggled it and found another sensual area to attack.

I groaned a yes and wrapped my arms around him crushing him into me. My good intentions went up in flames, hot sexy flames.

"Do you want me?" he whispered letting his breath continue to flow, warm across the wetness. He twisted in my arms, pressing hard against me now. Chest to chest, torso's straining, our crotches were grinding together.

"You fucking tease," I groaned. "Hell yes I want you."

I ran my hands up his back, cradling his head. Our mouths mashed together. Fighting the desire to pick him up and fling him on the bed and rip off those jeans and . . . I shuddered. Oh, shit, I was way over the line. This was a kid, even if he was coming on like a super stud.

We stood there tongue wrestling, grunting and groaning, squirming against each other. Jesus but he was hot.

Enough. I gained my composure and locked my hands on his arms. Thrusting him out in front of me I shook my head. It was a passionate combination of desires and fears that stopped me. Things were close to being out of control. I had the feeling we both knew it. But, was it what we both really wanted?

"Chris, baby, this is getting real intense. You sure you want to get into this?" I was holding him out there, looking him in the eye.

His face was flush, eyes blazing, that tongue flicking back and forth across his lips. He didn't say anything, just groaned and nodded, pushing against my retraining hands.

"I'm not doing anything without your approval, kid. This is your show, O.K.? Just let me know what you want." My voice was trying to reach out, soothe him, settle him down, letting him know he was in charge.

He stopped struggling against my grip, eyes still bright but now boring into mine. A smile crept onto his face, slowly turning into a sexy sneering smirk. It wasn't evil, just full of devilment. He understood. He had things he wanted and I was his to do with as he pleased. The idea took little time to soak in. I could tell, he liked what he was thinking. Reaching out he shoved my arms down, watching my reaction.

I stood still, waiting for his next move, smiled and gave him a wink of encouragement. He put his thumbs back in the waistband of his jeans and started inching them down. Sticking out his tongue and twisting his hips -- he was trying to get me to move.

"Want this, daddy," he crooned as those jeans reached the point were brown curly hairs started popping up from under the middle button.

"You giving me a present, baby?" I replied.

With a final tug Chris' jeans slid down to the floor and that young cock snapped to attention, full and firm. His balls were tucked tightly against the base of that erect shaft that curved up and out. The third eye was watching me, a tear dripping out. It fell, hanging suspended from a thin elastic string of crystal. The string stretched and stretched then broke letting that tear loose, contracted and formed another smaller droplet. As I watched it grew, oozing larger and larger.

Chris stepped out of the pile of denim at this feet moving around me. He ripped the cover off the bed and pounced into the middle. Laying back he stretched, arms high overhead, spreading his legs, arching his back, twisting his shoulders. Propping himself up he flicked a hand, motioning for me to come to him. He shifted around as I approached the bed and met me with hands on my waist as I reached the bedside.

Looking up at me and grinning he said, "Let me get you comfortable, old man. You're having trouble with those tight jeans, right?"

He skillfully got me undressed and, using my cock like a handle, lifted me onto the bed. I was maneuvered around so I was now the one stretched out on his back in the middle of the bed.

Crawling all over me Chris rubbed his stiff cock and tight ball sack from my calves up to my ears. He deliberately avoided direct contact with my own pulsing erection or my open waiting mouth.

On their own my hips were twisting, thrusting, taking what random body contact I could make as he moved over me.

He was humping the side of my head. The wetness of his dickhead pushed into my ear as he moaned, enjoying himself. Throwing a leg across my throat he lifted up. Straddling my face he thrust that hot flesh in front of me, teasing. Reaching down he grasped his cock and firmly pressed it between my lips, rocked back, glided forward. I opened to receive his gift.

Now Chris was resting on all fours, his legs spread. He leaned down and watched as he began fucking the opening I had given him. I swallowed hard, letting him slide deep, back out, in again. There was no fancy work with my lips or tongue. I just had to get open and take that meat in as far as I could, adjusting under him to keep from being smothered or choked as he pumped. His pelvis was twitching, shoving that hot organ first left then right as he lowered away, searching for a way to bury himself in me. He was cramming it in, grunting with each hard thrust.

"Eat it . . ." he started muttering, "Good daddy . . . eat that cock . . . take it all . . . " His tempo was slowly building and as it did his language got rougher. "Fuck you . . . take that cock . . . you ass hole . . . do me, daddy . . . eat my slimy cock . . . come on, shit head . . . " The faster he pumped into me the filthier his language got.

He was using me and sex to release a hell of a lot of frustrations. I was having a time just keeping alive under the pounding. But, I was still able to float above it all, watching, listening. Chris wouldn't admit it, most likely didn't even know, but he was using me as a substitute for his dad, his older brother, maybe both. He knew what he wanted. He just didn't understand why. He wanted to humiliate them yet be loved by them, really loved. He knew that wasn't possible, but with someone like me it was.

He was panting, moaning, his body quivering, shaking, ready to explode with passionate release. I could feel his cock swelling between my lips. Shoving in it expanded and filled my throat. With one more wild cry he collapsed on me. Grabbing my head with his hands he held me tight and he thrashed, cum pouring out, gushing down my gullet. He was wracked with tremors, crying and moaning with the joy of release. I struggled for air, gulping and swallowing, sucking every drop out of his leaky cock after the outburst.

Somewhere in the midst of his mounting ardor I had found it impossible not to take my own pleasure in hand. I was masturbating rapidly as his thrusting got wilder. As he gushed and his juice rolled down my throat I discharged five crashing, lifting skyrocketing loads into the air. They splattered back down, soaking the bed, my hand, seeping through my cock hairs, streaming on my legs.

When he grew limp he rolled off, snuggling up against me. He ran his hand down between us and found where I had let my own cum fall. He smeared it around on me, on himself, breathy soft laughter coming from deep in his throat.

"So, dad, what are you into sexually? When did you know you were gay? What was your first experience with a guy?"

I reached up and laid a finger across his lips, shushing him. He was full of questions. Wanting to know about himself, hoping to understand by hearing about others. I told him what he wanted to hear. Not the tale of my life, but a tale that fit his needs, his wants. It let me be someone he could turn to for help but still feel was flawed, not worthy of real love, just lust.

He wanted details. Looked for comparison points from my experience to match against his. Ways to learn. How do you do this? When can you do that? How big is big? Chris hadn't been into the gay scene too long, he was still experimenting, finding his way and his preferences. I asked him if he was always so driven when involved in oral sex. He didn't grasp my meaning, knew no other technique. He thought what had happened was the way it was, the only way.