Bride of my Father-In-Law 1 (Gay SPH)

By RSchwuler.


As I approached the twelfth floor, I nervously adjusted my tie. The elevator was mirrored, and I saw myself. Fresh out of the office and gym, in a blue suit with a gray tie. My blonde hair cut short, conservatively. Looking every bit, the successful businessman and respected husband and family man. No one who passed me on the street moments ago could have guessed where I was going, where I was delivering myself again. My hard-on was visible under my trousers.

I stepped off the elevator, glancing at the two other apartment doors that shared the lobby with Roy’s penthouse. His door swung open just as I was about to knock.

Roy was my father-in-law. 65 to my 32. Just like me, when fully dressed in his usual khakis and sweater vests, no one would guess what was beneath his good-natured demeanor.

But standing in the doorway, Roy was not fully dressed, of course. Instead, he wore his usual forest green bathrobe, obscenely open. My eyes were drawn to his pelt of gray body hair, from his neck to his toes. It covered his drooping pecs, his large red nipples, his big kingly belly. And below that, his thick silver bush, his intimidatingly large penis. The fat, crimson penis I knew would unman me, again and again, this weekend.

He stretched out his hands and beckoned me, and I came to him. He closed the door and slowly pushed me up against the wall, running his hands all over me.

“My sweet boy.”

He cupped my face in his large, rough hands. He pulled me to his mouth, and I felt that same wave of queasy lust and revulsion, knowing that I was about to submit to another long, lapping French kiss from my own father-in-law. That once again, I would have to taste him and let myself be tasted.

He smiled, and his large tongue darted out of his mouth, licked around his teeth and the sides of his lips. It was almost like he was mocking me with it or threatening me. That big man tongue was about to make itself at home in my mouth, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He pulled my head to his. We were the same height. His hands clasped the back of my neck as he sealed his larger mouth over mine. His white beard bristled against my clean-shaven cheeks. Both of our penises stiffened- his naked and much larger rod imposing itself against my meeker trouser tent. Pushing against mine insistently.

His big hands squeezed the sides of my head, and I obediently opened my mouth, and his tongue instantly slid past my lips and over my teeth. He explored the inside of my mouth, and his face bobbed back and forth against mine. I always hated this, being forced to submit to my father-in-law’s passionate kisses. The intimacy felt so wrong, letting his thick, probing tongue run rampant in my mouth to open myself up to him like this. The smacking sounds of it filling the room, his gratified moans, the wetness of his mouth, the sliminess of his tongue, the distinct taste of his saliva -it all turned my stomach. His fiendish smirk, looking me deep in the eyes when he would come up for air, seemed to indicate that he took delight in my clear discomfort.

But aside from the shame and misgivings, these deep tongue kisses had another effect on me. They made me literally swoon, losing myself in my closeness to this man. He must have been able to feel me weakening in his arms as he held me up by his grip on the sides of my head, backing me into the wall. Held me up the way a man holds his woman in an intimate embrace.

He always started our encounters with several minutes of intense French kisses like this, swapping spit like horny teenagers. It seemed to suck the resistance right out of me, take away all my hesitation and modesty as my muscles loosened and my head swam. Pausing now and then to smile at my flustered expression and observe the poisonous power of his kisses.

Then I felt his lips pulsing against mine. His spit was welling into my mouth. Not again. My heart sank, knowing I lacked the resolve to stop this. He was generating saliva, then shuttling it all into my mouth. With his hands locking my face against his, I had no option but to accept his saliva, swallow it down my throat. He pushed the top of my head down in an angle and funneled a flood of his warm spittle into my mouth. My stomach churned, and I suppressed my gag reflex, forcing myself to swallow it all. He churned more and more spit into my mouth, forcing me to consume it. Finally, he retracted, smiling at me, his lips shiny.

“Good boy,” he remarked, smiling with delight.

His hands ran over my belly, and he began unbuttoning my dress shirt. He stripped me out of my suit jacket, letting my dress shirt fall to the floor with it. Bare-chested, he ran his rough hands over my naked pectorals. He put his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his chest.

“Still just a little boy,” he remarked breathily in his deep, rich voice, running his hairy fingers on the chest he had begun to keep shaven at the beginning of our affair.

A week after we began, he had dragged me by my ear into his bathroom and removed every bit of body hair below my ears. I had just stood there like a fool and let him turn me back into a prepubescent kid.

“Just a little boy,” he repeated.

Roy almost had me in a headlock, marching me over to the mirror in his entry hall.

“Now, Billy, what do you see? A man or a little boy?” he asked in a sweet clear voice, like a father talking to his 3-year-old.

“A little boy,” I admitted.

Roy was constantly making me disavow my own manhood and even my adulthood. He fondled my pectorals. I had lost the X of brown hair that had been on my chest since college and the happy trail I’d had since I was 15. The sight was still a shock, and I still felt a sense of loss and self-consciousness every time I looked at it. Finally, he spun me around so that his face was pressed to mine.

He looked into my eyes expectantly. “Just a sweet little boy who needs his Daddy, hmmm?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered meekly.

He grunted in satisfaction, then pulling up a chair from a desk to the center of the room. He sat down and pulled me in front of him, then began undoing my belt. I looked down and saw that where his bare penis had pressed into the crotch of my pants, his big cock head had smeared precum all over the crotch of my pants, staining them.

“It’s time to see if Billy’s little pee-pee has gotten any bigger. Let’s take a look at that pecker, my boy.”

He opened my pants and pulled them to the floor. He placed his hands on the waistband of the white jockey briefs he had ordered me to wear every day, Tighty-whities. When Roy began using me three months ago, I had not worn them since I was twelve. Quickly into Roy’s taking over of me, he had come to our home when my wife was out and had ransacked my underwear drawer, claiming all of my boxers and boxer briefs and replacing them with fifteen identical pairs of virginal white fruit of the looms. My wife had barely noticed, but that and the shaven pubes definitely got me some smirks and raised eyebrows in the gym locker room.

He gingerly pulled down the briefs to my thighs, and his smirk widened to a beaming grin. My erection bobbed out inches from his face.

“Oh my, Billy, it’s still quite small,” he said.

He shamelessly handled my penis and testicles -in his large hands, it did look quite small. I had never seen myself as poorly endowed before Roy had invaded my life, a little below average, maybe but not by much. But being forced to spend hours up close and personal with his mighty mallet, his fat cock swinging proudly between his hairy legs, and have it constantly compared against my much smaller penis, as well as his ceaseless taunting and comments about my small penis size, had gotten into my head. I found that even when away from Roy, in a gym locker, at the urinal, I had grown timid around other men, self-conscious about my ‘tiny little boy penis,’ as he called it.

He picked up a ruler from the end table. He loved measuring me. He said, “My, my, my… It’s still just about four 1/2 inches when fully erect. And how big is your Daddy’s cock, boy?”

He had handed me the ruler and pushed me to my knees between his legs. Breathing heavily, I took his thick red tool in my hand, feeling its heat. The sight of my delicate hand holding onto my father-in-law’s cock still shocked me.

“N-nine inches, Sir.”

I rounded up, just as he had previous times. Still, his penis was impressive, the biggest I had ever seen in person. It was thick as a can of shaving cream, angry crimson, and covered in veins like an oak tree, with a flared purple head. Mine, in comparison, was a gentle-looking thing, the width of a hot dog, pink and almost delicate compared to his, which is what Roy relished doing. Comparing his big man meat to my “little boy penis.”

He took the ruler out of my hand and then cupped my chin. He removed his phone from a pocket in his robe, and I could tell he was recording a video of me. Then, in a clear voice, he asked, “Does Daddy have a bigger penis than you, Billy?”

He had a wry smile on his face as he interrogated me.

I clasped my hands behind my back obediently. “Oh, yes, Daddy. Daddy’s penis is twice as large as mine.”

“Tell me how long Billy’s little penis is and how long Daddy’s big fat cock is.”

“Billy’s little penis is only 4 1/2 inches long, and Daddy’s big fat cock is 9 inches long.”

“Now stand up, time to take some pictures with Daddy.”

He brought me back to the full-length mirror and put his arm around my waist. The sight of us, my bare ass naked and him in his lewd open robe, was obscene. The contrast shamed me- him well hung and me poorly endowed, he coated in proud manly hair, me shaven, smooth as a little boy. He began snapping photos of our reflection. Some he seemed to zoom in on just the stark contrast of our crotches, but some clearly captured our faces. I felt queasy- the video, the photos, he had never done anything like this before.

“Billy, you’re going to set these photos as the background of your phone. So you’re going to look at them every day. Every free moment you have, in fact. I want you always to be looking at your Daddy’s big fat cock next to your little boy penis. Do you hear me?”

He chided me, waving his finger in my face. I imagined complying with his order, jerking off to these shameful pictures. Locked away in a bathroom stall at my office, suit pants at my ankles. Shamefully hard.

“Yes, Sir,” I chirped.

He then brought me back to the chair, having me stand before him. He began handling my rock-hard pecker, stroking it with the tips of his thumb and pointer finger. I began panting from the strokes, watching him work. The way he touched it, carefully and gently, like it was made of porcelain. Like it was a small and delicate thing.

“So weak. So tiny,” he said breathily, focused on my slender dink as I bucked my hips, receiving his strokes gratefully. “So very small for a grown man. This is why you must see yourself as just a boy.”

He gazed into my eyes and tapped my lips with his middle and index fingers.

I knew he expected my affirmation. “Yes, Sir.”

“What are you, son? A man or just a tiny little boy?”

Again, I was made to renounce my manhood. “I’m just a tiny little boy.”

He nodded, then asked, “And who I am, boy?”

His eyes were wide and expectant.

“You’re my Daddy,” I answered, my voice small.

“That’s right, boy. I’m your Daddy. But what about that Kyle Holmes?” he asked with faux concern, referencing my father’s name.

“Kyle Holmes’ is not my real father. You are Daddy. You’re my real father.”

Hearing me disown my father in favor of him always gave him a look of maniacal glee. It felt so kinky and wrong to talk about my Dad when like this, bare-ass naked in the grasp of my father-in-law, who was also hanging hog.

“We’ll deal with Kyle soon enough, boy. Tell me, where did you use to live, Billy?” Roy quizzed me, ever the genial teacher.

“In your big hairy balls, Daddy,” I answered as he had coached me.

I looked at the pendulous, fur-covered orbs hanging between his legs, each testicle larger than my entire nut sack.

“That’s right, boy, you used to just be a little speck swimming around in your Daddy’s big old balls.”

He removed his hands from my waist and collared the back of my neck, bringing me to my knees, my face a few inches from his big heavy ball sack. I inhaled the scent of his crotch. He coaxed my head closer so that I kissed each testicle reverently.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whimpered.

I knew this is how he liked me at my most weak, my most pathetic. Worshipping his very manhood. He caressed my scalp, pushing me deeper between his legs. I lapped at his scrotum, eagerly taking his balls in my mouth, one at a time. They were so big.

“Oh, my little boy. Oh, my tiny, little boy,” he groaned as I shamelessly pleasured him.

I humped my hard-on against his hairy leg as I eagerly licked his balls. After a few more minutes of paying homage to his gonads, Roy eventually stood up and brought me back to my feet. He wrapped me up in one of those long, crushing hugs he favored. The ones where he pulled me into his robe so that we were sharing it almost. Folded me into Daddy’s hairy chest. Though we were the same height, Roy had at least 40 lbs on me, so he made me feel little beside him.

I loved and hated these hugs. They truly made me feel like the little boy that Roy was transforming me into. He firmly pressed my clean-shaven face into the dense, swirling mass of his gray chest hair. I felt his heavy breathing under his heaving chest, his steady heartbeat. He wanted me to feel like this, protected and helpless, safe, and nakedly vulnerable to him: this perverted intimacy, this terrible closeness. I opened my eyes to look down at our two hard-ons. His mammoth crimson prick jabbing into my hairless belly. My little pink penis disappearing into his pubic bush.

I thought of poker night with the guys. Ever hug your father-in-law like this? Hug your father-in-law while you’re both naked so that your hard dicks poke at each other like a sword fight?

No, it would have to start earlier if I were to confess to my friends. Ever go golfing with your father-in-law and take a shower with him at the clubhouse afterward, against your better judgment? Hadn’t you always sensed that he had a strange interest in you? Hadn’t his hugs (back when they were clothed) been too long, his rubbing hands too intimate, forcing your face to his chest like you were his little boy? Hadn’t he patted and slapped your ass like a coach at every chance he had? Hadn’t he even always insisted on kissing you on the lips when it was just the two of you? Who kisses their father-in-law on the lips?

But hadn’t you showered with him at the country club and seen his colossal penis, longer soft than yours, was hard? Hadn’t he clearly registered your awe and embarrassment, waggling his big hog at you obscenely? Didn’t you willing go to the steam room with him, sitting beside him atop your towels, both of you naked, your penis a laughable miniature of his big hog? Didn’t your father-in-law do just that, laugh at the size of your penis? Didn’t he take your wrist in his hand, and have you put your hand on his big meat, feeling its heft? Didn’t you end up sucking your father-in-law’s cock in the steam room?

And wasn’t that the first time he made you acknowledge what would become a constant mantra- that he was a man and you were just a wee boy?

And once that bridge was crossed, the changes were immediate. Forced meetings at his apartment before heading back home on the train. A bellyful of his father-in-law’s cum once every three days. Twice weekly butt-fuckings. And somehow, worse, the romancing. The seduction. Candlelight dinners, shared bottles of wine while sitting naked in his lap and butt naked slow dancing, held tight in his arms forced to love his father-in-law romantically.

He leads me further into the apartment, and I looked back at my crumpled suit, discarded on the entry hall floor. It looked like a cicada shell. I realized that I had basically never worn clothes inside my father-in-law’s apartment, that he always got me bare ass naked within the first few steps of entering.

Roy led me over to the couch in his den, had me sit on his lap, grabbed the back of my head, and began another bout of tonsil hockey. He kept his robe on, and I saw ourselves in the mirror on the opposite wall. I felt so incredibly naked and vulnerable atop his lap, watching his big, gnarled hands feeling all up my exposed waist and bare chest.

I looked out the windows of his apartment. The snow had already started.

As we made out, Roy’s prick kept stabbing between my buttocks.

“Is my boy ready for his Daddy?” he asked.

I nodded bashfully. After the office, I had gone to the gym, and after working out, I had taken my shaven body into the shower and cleaned myself thoroughly.

He guided me up off his lap, turning me around, with my feet outside of his thighs and my torso spread out over his coffee table, holding myself up on all fours. He clasped my buttocks and spread them open, and buried his bearded face into my most private of places. At once, his mouth, lips, and tongue began their fiendish work on my vulnerable hole.

He came up from my backside and clasped my neck, turning my head to the right to see ourselves in the mirror. The image shocked me. Apart from my thin little boner poking from between my hairless legs, I looked like an athletic, short-haired, small-titted woman getting ravished by her big hairy sugar Daddy.

“Look at yourself getting eaten out. Daddy’s boy loves getting eaten out, doesn’t he?”

I moaned in the affirmative. My whole pale body was shaking in response to his ministrations.

“Thank your Daddy for eating out your pussy, boy,” he chided good-naturedly like he was telling his young son to my mind his manners.

“Thank you for eating out my pussy, Daddy.”

He dove back in, and I shouted in pleasure. His stubbled mug against my shaven hole drove me wild, and his tongue was large and insistent. I shuddered with several of the strange, full-body orgasms he was able to bring out of me this way. Then, rising from my rump, he slapped my butt playfully and stood me up, laughing at his power over me, his potency.

“Lay yourself down on Daddy’s bed.”

I walked into his bedroom, seeing my erection bobbing in the mirror. I laid down on my back on his king-size mattress and watched him enter.

Roy shucked his robe, leaving it on the floor behind him. I looked at his now fully naked body, his wide hips, the coarse dark hair on his shoulders and arms. His big hard-on poking out obscenely from his pair-shaped, powerful body. Three months ago, the sight would have revolted me, but now I thought of this hirsute old man’s body every day.

As I lay upon the bed, legs spread, and watched him approach, I felt like the blonde in King Kong, tied up by the villagers as a sacrifice. He climbed onto the bed, rocking the mattress, and threw my legs over his shoulders. I was now trapped beneath him. He must have weighed at least 230 lbs, and I was only 180. He was crushing me into the bed. There would be no escape even if I wanted to.

His belly sealed over mine. He came in for another kiss. As he lapped at my mouth, he pumped his hips, moving my body and grinding his thick rod against my exposed hole, as when he kissed me before, he purposefully deposited a large amount of spit into my mouth that I had no choice but to swallow down my throat, wincing. When I opened my eyes, he had a look of amusement on his face.

In a lilting voice as if speaking to a child, he said, “When a man allows another man to put his penis inside of his body, he has forfeited the right to call himself a man. You know that, don’t you, boy?”

He tapped his big finger over my lips, fondling my face.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I knew it. This was a fundamental truth I had always known. It wasn’t polite or politically correct to say, but it’s a fact every guy learns early and knows in their heart. Once you’ve been fucked up the ass, you get your man-card permanently revoked. You’re a faggot and nothing more. No going back.

Roy continued, “He loses his place within his family line and instead becomes the biological property of the man who has fucked him.”

I closed my eyes and nodded solemnly.

“Still, you wish to be inseminated by my big dong, don’t you, boy?”

I looked down past my own shaven chest and belly, past my slender erection pointing straight up, between my pale spread legs to my father-in-law’s monstrous semen-depositor. Between the man’s thick hairy thighs, bursting from a copse of the thick gray pubic bush, thick as a beer can, covered in blue veins, glistening from the lubricant, crowned with a giant dark crimson head. Poisoned to skewer me in my most intimate of spots.

For a long moment, he let me look at his big threatening penis, pulsating between my legs. Poisonous. That’s how it looked. If he had been an animal in the wild, his cock’s hostile coloration, all deep crimson, purple and blue, would have marked it as venomous.

“Yes, Daddy. I want to be inseminated by you,” I said and sealed my own fate.

To be penetrated again. To be fucked by my father-in-law.

“I’m going in,” Roy said and pushed his way with slow determination, a big jagged key masterfully unlocking my insides.

I breathed out, pushed out as he had taught me. Then, inch after inch, he plunged into me, and I opened for him obligingly. For a few moments, we both breathed hard and focused on our respective tasks, his conquest, mine surrender.

Suppose the guys could see me know. Bare ass naked and folded up like a pretzel under this silverback gorilla of a man. Flat on my back, legs over my head, taking inch after inch of my father-in-law’s porn-star size cock. Oftentimes when here, I thought of them. How my friends would react. The disbelieving laughter, the jeers. I reveled in the fantasy of them, seeing my ultimate debasement.

Soon he had bottomed out in me. He grunted in satisfaction, then waggled his cock in from side to side, enjoying the new real estate he had made in my ass. Pure delight on his face, uninhibited pleasure from owning his son-in-law’s body so completely.

Fully embedded in my ass, he lowered his face to mine and licked from my neck to my chin, up to my cheek, and to my forehead. It made me feel like I was being fucked by a giant dog. I felt the wetness of his saliva on my face as he looked down at me, smirking.

“What’s going on in that silly little head of yours, Billy?” I hesitated, and he demanded. “Tell Daddy no secrets.”

He grabbed my neck behind my ear. “I’m thinking,” I panted as he slowly thrust in and out of me. Finally, he nodded at me to go on. “I’m thinking about if all my friends saw me. Saw me like this. Getting fucked by you.”

I sputtered the confession out. From the very first time he had used me like this, I had imagined it. Me being sodomized by my father-in-law and having all of the men in my life there, watching it. Sweaty, naked, standing over the bed. Pulling at themselves. My friends, my enemies, co-workers, my boss, even my own father. All of them.

“Oh, yes, soon they will. Your best man, Brad, and all those men who stood by you while you married my daughter. All of them will see you like this. Flat on your back…” his voice rose, pronouncing my degradation, “like a woman.”

“Yeah?” I asked, gasping, egging on his perversion.

“Oh, yes. They will see you being bred. Knocked up by my big cock. Maybe they’ll have a go at your mouth while I plunder your ass? Would you like that, boy?” he asked, squeezing my buttocks as he pounded me.

“Oh yeah, Daddy.”

My head was swimming, imaging them lining up, all pantsless, laughing, whipping out their phone to document my exquisite debasement. Then, cranking their hogs to ready themselves for their turn between my legs.

“All of them will know that you’re my boy, Billy. That I butt-fuck you. They’ll all see you as you truly are,” he promised.

“Please, Sir, yes, I want them to see,” I cried.

“Who? Say their names, full names. Your friends, the men you want to watch me butt fuck you, boy!” he commanded, slapping my hip.

“Urgh… Brad Patterson… Dan O’Malley… Chris Carelli… Mike Kowalski… Bob Banner… All of them…”

As I named them, I imagined them their heavy, hairy, naked bodies, so much more manly than mine.

“Who else?” Roy demanded, lightly slapping my face.

“Urgh… Keith Donoghue, the guys I work with … My boss, Ted Cooper. All of them, I want them to see me get fucked by you!”

Now in my head, I was in my office, laid out on the conference room table, my colleagues all brandishing big rampant hard-ons, naked but for the ties still around their thick necks.

“Guess who else is going to watch me fuck you, son?” Roy asked with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

“Who, Daddy,” I gulped, my voice ragged.

“That little faggot Kyle Holmes, that’s who,” he bellowed, again invoking my father’s name, punctuating his words with a deep, brutal thrust that made me wail. He continued, “Oh yeah. Father’s Day this summer. We’re going to show him who his boy belongs to. Who his boy’s real Daddy is.”

Roy had threatened this before, this ultimate degradation. How he would beat up and overpower my Dad, make him watch me get butt fucked. I groaned and closed my eyes, seeing it clearly.

“He’s going to watch me fuck you, Billy.” Roy’s hands attacked my chest, tweaking my nipples, as he continued, “Why wait till the summer? I tell you to bend over in front of your Dad. You’re grabbing your ankles, right boy?” He laughs cockily.

“Yes, Sir!”

I wanted to. Even though it made me sick with self-disgust, and imagining it made me shudder, I wanted him to see me like that.

“If that little wimp tries to come between me and your pussy, I’ll break his goddamn arms. I’m not kidding, boy.”

Roy always got frighteningly violent with this part of our shared sick fantasy. Black eyes, broken bones, teeth punched out—ruinous attacks on his testicles. Again, I was ashamed at how much his crazy threats aroused me.

Roy then said, “But he’s such a goddamn coward. I think I’ll just need to slap his mousy little face, and he’ll fall right in line. And then he’ll just have to sit there and crank his little pecker while he watches me hump his boy’s pretty pussy.” Roy mused upon the perverse image.

Roy took one of my feet off his shoulder and surprised me by plunging my toes in his big mouth. He licked and sucked each of them, darting his tongue between my toes as he humped into me. This strange delight and the unmanning pleasure made me moan, long and loud, calling to the ceiling. I lost control, bucking my hips into his pounding pelvis, welcoming his fat cock into me as he chewed on my feet.

“I’ve wanted this since the day I met you, Billy. To be inside you,” he said and released my ankles, placing his heavy hands on my chest, kneading my pectorals as he kept fucking me. One hand clasped my throat. “And now that I’ve got you, I’m never going to let you go.”

His fist closed tightly on my trachea, choking me. For some reason, being told that he would never free me made my heart race. He brought his mouth to my neck and began to chew. He sawed his cock into me, building his pace. His forehead screwed up with concentration, his big face bright red as he huffed and puffed. Finally, he roared like an animal as he came, emptying himself into me with a dozen more forceful thrusts. His hand went to my achingly hard penis and brought me off with three strokes. I squealed like a woman, exploding all over both of our bellies.

He collapsed onto me, pinning me in place. Eventually, he pulled out but quickly laid three pillows right under the small of my back.

“Stay perfectly still. Let my seed run into you. You must get as much of me as deep as possible each time. That way, I can truly inseminate you. Make you pregnant.”

He rubbed my belly as he issued this command. Next, he brought his heavy gut to my face and had me lick off my semen from my orgasm. Roy then hopped off the bed, and I watched his large hairy ass shift with each step as he shambled to his bathroom. Not bothering to close the door, I listened to his loud stream of urine as he pissed.

He stomped back into the room when his phone buzzed, motioning for me to remain to lie prone on the bed, my hips elevated.

“Roy Philips.” He answered, and I laid there as he took a business call, standing over the bed, his big, wet cock still thick from sex.

He stomped around the room, commandingly giving orders to his subordinate over the phone. I admired his penis’s thick, veiny ugliness, shaking in front of him with each heavy step. Occasionally he rubbed his hands over my naked body as I lay there. Leaning forward to kiss my sweat-soaked, panting belly like it carried his child. I looked at his thick, hairy fingers kneading my flesh, and I was very aware of the presence of his load, the shameful wetness there. Could I feel his semen seeping deeper into me? Was his seed truly invading my body, to remain there permanently as he promised?

“Good boy. Soon you’ll be pregnant,” he told me after hanging up, sitting beside me on the bed.

Roy scooped my load from my belly and fed it to me. I licked it out of his hands. He then wiped his hand off on my chest and looked me in the eyes.

“You know each time we do this, Billy, each time you let me in you like this, I become more and more your Daddy, and you become more and more my little boy.”

His words were sweet, and he tapped his fingers over my heaving chest playfully, but his eyes drilled into mine.

“I take another piece of that manhood from you. Soon you’ll have no manhood left at all, and you’ll just be my little boy,” he said sweetly. “Pretty soon, my boy, this is all you’ll have to be. You won’t have to put on your suit every day and pretend to be a man. You’ll just get to be Daddy’s boy every day.”

Roy moved me into a spoon position, grinding his quickly resuscitating hard-on against my bare ass as he whispered into my ear about dismantling my life. We stayed like that for a while and watched the snowfall outside. My wife was out of town this weekend, so I was at Roy’s until Monday.

The End.


*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.

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