Category / Rating: slash/gay, R
(Formerly known as: Doggyboy: Underdog)
Warning: Naturalistic descriptions and violence!
'You're in here.'
The lad walked through the forbidding doorway. Home. His eyes adjusted to the slightly dim light. The door was slammed shut behind him.
A sparsely furnished space, enough for two staggered beds, a few small items of furniture, a sink, and a small barred window letting in a pitiful amount of daylight. He knew with a sinking certainty he was going to go crazy in shut up in here 20 hours a day. But then, he knew that before he got caught.
Beside the furthest bed there was a tall, well-muscled shaven headed man dressed only in boots and jeans doing press ups. As the lad watched, the man began to do it one armed. His working arm bulged, taut. He grunted with each push upwards, switching after ten to repeat with the other arm. Only after a further ten did he stop. He bounded up with surprising swiftness for his size and stood massaging his left arm with his right.
The lad noticed the extensive tattoos adorning both arms, the enormous chest fuzzed with hair, a large scar on the man's thick neck. Built like a brick shithouse, as they used to say. The man was staring directly at him with an inscrutable expression. It didn't seem like outright hostility, but the lad wasn't sure how to read it. After a good ten second pause, the man nodded at the newcomer.
'About time.' He pointed at the bed nearest the door. 'Yours.'
Jack was the local neighbourhood tough kid who'd got in with the wrong crowd and out of his depth. Not careful enough. Not experienced enough. That was why he was going to be in here for at least the next two years. Still, he knew enough to know trouble when he saw it, and this guy looked like trouble. He put his stuff on the bed and sat down, took a deep breath. Take it easy, Jack, you ain't goin nowhere.
The man was back down on the floor now doing another set. The lad watched him cautiously out of curiosity; not much else to look at after all. The man's measured breathing filled the cell, his broad back beading with sweat. Nine. Ten. Switch. One. Two Three...
'How old are you son?'
Jack jerked back to reality. His eyes had become mesmerised by the up down movement of the chunky torso. He'd barely acknowledged that the man was now resting on his knees, still on all fours, and was facing him again.
'Thought so. My kid's nearly that age.'
The workout resumed. Crunches now. The man didn't seem too unfriendly, Jack thought. Gruff, yeah, but that was hardly a surprise. Still, something had lodged itself in his gut the minute their eyes met, and refused to go away. He couldn't say what it was. He no longer had any private space, and this unnerved him as much as anything. The man was soon back on his feet. He stretched both arms above his head and breathed out loudly, then dropped them again. His sheer physical presence dominated the small room. An uncomfortable silence.
'You work out?'
The man narrowed his eyes and stared. 'Show me. 30 push ups.' He clicked his fingers and pointed at the floor.
Before he knew it, Jack was on the floor doing as he was told. He hadn't even thought of saying no, such was the fear which had sunk into his bones ever since he'd stepped into this small room. The adrenaline rush was kinda welcome though. He needed to have something to occupy his mind, after all. Having a mate to work out with wasn't such a bad idea. It's what guys did. But above all else he didn't want to disappoint this man.
He reached the end of the set and sat up, breathing calmly, determined to show he could hack the pace. His arms ached, but he could do plenty more. He was hot now though. He followed the man's example and took off his T-shirt, throwing it on the bed.
The man was nodding again.
'Not bad. Again.'
Jack got down and took his time. The adrenaline was still there, but he had the sense to pace himself. He was fairly fit, though more of an athlete than anything. A good runner. Nowhere to run now though.
The man had got himself a cup of water and stood contemplating the lad's effort and phacysique. Not too tall, pale skin, short spiky dark hair, smooth, lean and defined. Probably straight. Ideal. The guvnor had kept his promise after all. He drained the cup.
The lad finished and moved back to sit on his heels, looking up expectantly. Cute. His face looked young for 19, more like 16, thought the man.
'OK. That'll do for now.'
Jack slowly stood up and rubbed his arms. 'I'm Jack, by the way'.
The man stared right through him again. Silence.
'Don't care for names much.'
The lad feared he had made a big mistake without realising it. The fear resurfaced.
'Oh. Right. Sure.'
'The others call me Sike. But you... You can call me dad.'
Now THAT was fucking weird. But trouble was staring him right in the face, and the guy certainly wasn't joking. Just do what he says, Jack. Just do what he says.
Nothing further was said for several hours. The man carried on his workout a while. Jack lay down on his bed and tried to take stock of his situation. He must have drifted off at some point. The first night drew in.
There were several hours of respite outside. Food, echoing banter, fierce unfriendly faces everywhere. A fight brewed from nowhere between a white guy and a black guy, broken up by three burly officers. He took it all in: calm, cautious, ready to laugh at the vicious jokes, no emotion, mind on edge, trusting no-one. He got to play some pool for a short while with some other lads near to his age, but before too long he was trudging back to his cell.
His cell-mate wasn't there, but followed him in less than twenty seconds later. The man pulled off his T-shirt to reveal his well-exercised tank of a torso once more and flung himself down on his bed. He pulled out a motorbike mag from a pile underneath and began to read. Jack hadn't brought anything to read, but did have a pack of cards which he shuffled through while sat staring into space. He stole a few glances of his intimidating cell mate. Time passed.
'I'll give you a game.'
Jack looked over to see the man staring right through him again.
'Sure...' - only the slightest pause - 'dad.' He almost laughed at how easy it was. All the rules had changed now. Another life.
The man cocked his head slightly. 'Want something stronger to drink?'
'What, the hard stuff?'
'Got a supplier.'
Well, that was a turn up and no mistake. Jack needed a drink more than just about anything. The man produced a bottle of indecipherably labelled vodka from behind his bed and proceeded to pour a large measure into both plastic cups, handing one over.
'Thanks.' The lad eagerly took a swig. Savoured it, breathed the fumes out and broke into a broad grin. The man grinned back at him.
'Fuck me that's good. I needed that.'
'Thought you might.'
They played rummy on the one small side table in the room, dragged to Jack's bed along with the only chair. This the man sat on, reclined, legs wide. Jack managed OK to start with, but increasingly began to lose, much to his annoyance. His cup was refilled.
'Ah, what a fucking fuck. I'm usually better than this. You ever done this for a living?'
'Nah. Just my lucky day.'
They continued for some time, saying nothing much. Jack finally managed to claw back some dignity by winning a few hands. Then out of nowhere:
'You wanna know why I've told you to call me dad?'
The man was looking up at the lad while still hunched over the table, like he was ready to strike. Jack, buzzed up now on the alcohol, nodded.
'It's cos I'm gonna protect you. Without that, you'll get your pretty little face rearranged within the next week or so, I can guarantee it. Maybe worse. I know this place, been here six years. What you got to realise is, my word goes. I say no one lays a fucking finger on you, that's how it is. Simple. They know better than to mess with Sike.'
The man reclined now on his chair, cards still in one hand and thumb of the other hooked in his jeans pocket. He stared. Jack didn't know how to respond. Sounded good. So that meant there had to be a catch.
'But I ain't doin it for fuckin free, son. You're gonna give me something back for that protection.'
'Sure, but... I ain't got no money.'
'Ain't talkin bout money.'
Silence. Distant shouting from somewhere else in the building.
'So what then?'
'Right. One, you're gonna help with my business activities: stuff needs to get passed around. Know what I mean? I'll cut you in some. Two, you're gonna work out with me and massage me if I'm feeling tight. My shoulders are kinda bad right now. Three, you're gonna suck my dick at least once a day, maybe more if I'm feelin horny.'
This was all said in such a matter fact way, that Jack could barely believe the last bit. He hadn't just said that, had he? Had he? He stumbled over his reply, feeling sure he was blushing.
'The first two are fine, dad... Er... Business. Yeah. You just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it. Whatever you want. Be cool to work out with you too, and all that stuff. But... But I ain't gay, y'know. I don't suck dick. I don't...'
Another uncomfortable silence. The man stared impassively at him and put down his cards. He emptied his cup of vodka in one sharp swallow and slammed the cup down on the table; proceeded to pour out another measure, still saying nothing.
'I don't look gay, do I?' Jack was almost pleading now. He knew he was on a slippery slope here. Down. Down. The man suddenly broke into a short knowing laugh under his breath and gave a lopsided smile.
'Course you don't, kiddo. Listen, you ain't, I ain't. Don't mean shit in here. Six years banged up has taught me to take it where I can get it. So... I'm gonna teach you how everything works, and keep you safe, and you're gonna, well, help me out. Simple.'
Silence again. The lad stared as if he still didn't understand. The man put his cards on the table and quickly leaned forward to roughly grab the lad's chin in one meaty hand. He brought his own face up close, snarling and fierce.
'It's a fuckin generous offer, son, believe me. You don't want to get on the losing side in this place. Ain't a gay thing, it's a power thing. I'm gonna own you, OK?'
He let go and sat back in his chair. Jack rubbed his jaw and looked at him. He knew there was no way out of this one. Fight the guy? Ha, what a joke. They'd be scraping him off the walls. The thug had him over a barrel alright. Why had they put him in here with him?
Sucking a man's dick... No, Sucking his DAD'S dick. Fuck this was twisted. He'd beaten up a gay boy once at school and laughed about it with his mates for weeks. Now look where he was. Adrenaline rush and cornered. He couldn't speak.
The man lightly thumbed the head of his dick through his jeans pocket. He had him. He could tell by the lad's body language that he was going to give in without too much of a fight. Sweet. His dick had been kept waiting long enough.
Jack looked again at the menacing figure barely a metre or two away and couldn't hold the sheer force of the man's stare. He looked down. Trouble wasn't the half of it. He could feel his heart pounding. This was a test, he thought. That's all. A test. Different rules. He'd have to get through it somehow. The words fell out of him.
'OK, dad. Whatever you want.'
He looked back up to see a grin and a glint in the man's eyes.
'That's my boy.' He picked up his cards again, keeping his eyes fixed on the lad. 'Your turn.'
Jack returned to the game, barely able to concentrate. He could see the man's wide open legs. He imagined himself crouched down with stiff meat pushing past his lips... Sucking on it... His head swam with the expectation and he lost another hand. He swigged more vodka. They played on for a while. July, already. The room was oppressively hot. He removed his T-shirt. The man watched him intently, lust hanging in the air between.
'Wanna see some porn?'
The man wasn't totally heartless. He knew the kid would cope better first time round if he was already turned on as well as tipsy. As for next time... Well, tomorrow was another day.
'Yeah, whatcha got?'
The man walked over to his bed and out came a well thumbed magazine from the pile under it. He tossed it over. Jack caught the offering, put his cards down and sat further back on the bed, resting his upper back against the wall. He opened at random, finding a sexy young blonde spreadeagled with her fingers in her pussy and licking her lips. Fuck. He felt his dick stir immediately into action. He turned the page to another picture of her on all fours displaying her pert behind. His hand moved to gently rub his dick through his jeans and his mouth fell lightly open. He turned to yet another page. This time, with eyes to camera, it was a close up of her face, mouth clasped around some guy's veiny dick. He rubbed himself harder and lightly moaned.
The man watched him, still gently caressing his meat through the pocket lining. He was seriously enjoying this build up.
'Show me that' he ordered. Jack showed him the picture. 'Oh yeah, that one. One of my favourites that. Real nice.'
Jack focussed hard on the picture again, the pretty face being violated. Either she was fairly petite or that was one monster dick she was taking.
All the tension that had been building since he'd arrived was being slowly relieved by his arousal. Look at it, Jack. Drink that beauty in. She was getting what she deserved, and she loved it. The horny youngster felt the porn and alcohol pushing insistently at his inhibitions. He knew where this was all leading and wasn't gonna pretend otherwise. He just had to let himself go with the flow. No point fighting.
The man's voice was leading him on. The more he stared at the magazine, the more it seemed like the fantasy there on the page was teasing him, daring him to try it. How hard could it be? If she could do it, he could do it. Simple. Mouth on dick. Nothing complicated. No one else was ever gonna know. His dick was hard now and he wanted to start jerking it. Horny and 19, it all came easily enough.
'Sure is hot, dad. Big fuckin dick she's suckin too.'
'Yeahhh. Nearly as fucking big as yer old man's.'
The man was well turned on now and could feel his meat firming up nicely in his jeans. He eyed the lad's desire flushed face, the slightly open mouth, the glazed eyes, the barest hint of a few days gone without shaving on otherwise smooth skin. Those soft lips were gonna feel reeeeal nice. The lad looked at him in genuine surprise.
'Serious? You're bigger than that? No waaaay.'
Jitters swept through the Jack's stomach. Was this going to be more than he could handle? Only one way to find out. He was warming to his role now. To the inevitable.
'You bet I am, son. Want me to prove it?'
The lad looked warily at the topless tough guy and the studied undercurrent of violence lurking in his expression. The shaved head, broad shoulders, massive biceps, tattoos, well-rounded pecs, widespread chest fuzz tapering down... A proper straight bloke, no messin. You wouldn't pick a fight with him on a Friday night unless you were mental. Twice his age at least. Certainly old enough to be his dad for real. His hand pressed again at his dick through his jeans. Maybe he did want it.
'Yeah. Prove it to me dad.'
The muscle man lazily unzipped himself, staring hard at the lad as he did so. Jack, scared and excited at what was happening, could only look on disbelievingly on as the fearsome shaft was revealed from within the scruffy jeans. It was a powerful weapon alright: a thick, straight cylinder of veiny muscle from top to bottom, more than eight inches long, maybe nine, at least as big as any Jack had seen before in porn clips. A rough, scarred hand aimed it toward him, lightly stroking it as it neared full hardness.
'What do ya think of that then, son? Is yer old man a stud or what?'
'Fuck me. You weren't kiddin were you? That's massive.'
Jack stared at the monster rod, still absent-mindedly pressing his own dick through his jeans. He was truly taken aback by the size, though it was admittedly in proportion to the big guy who owned it. He glanced again at the magazine and the woman excitedly sucking the huge dick there. His turn now. Fuckin hell. Feverish anticipation swept through him. He was powerless to resist the beast awaiting him. He rubbed his jeans some more. Different rules. Better learn quick, Jack.
'You wanna take a closer look?'
'Can I, Dad?'
'Course you can, son. On yer knees.'
The man moved his chair slightly away from the table. He was ready for action now, but he wanted to draw the moment out. He was enjoying seeing the kid get into the roleplay.
Jack put the magazine aside and did as he was told. He slid off the bed on to the floor, strange contradictory feelings welling up inside as he took pole position. He knew this wasn't right, knew he was no homo. In the outside world he would be screaming blue murder. But here all choice had been taken away, and he was buzzed by that. A reckless, crazy part of him wanted this all to happen, wanted to let this brutal man assert authority over him, wanted the assault. The alcohol charged through his bloodstream. No doubt about it, he was still fucking turned on.
'Wow. Look at that motherfucker. Bet you've made a few women scream with that thing.'
'Too fuckin right I have.' The man continued to stroke the chunky member. Jack edged a little closer, mesmerized, heart beating wildly. Was this a dream or a nightmare? He couldn't tell.
'Can I touch it, dad?'
He was trying to play innocent, thinking this was what the man wanted. He was right.
'Yeahhhh. I'd like that.'
The man let go and Jack reached out to grip the thick member. Fuck, the size of it. This was mental. It was rock hard now and the man groaned deeply as the lad slowly began to slip his hand back and forth. He felt the monster surge beneath his hand.
'Yeahhhh, that's the way. Gettin yer old man worked up a treat.'
The man spat hard into his right hand and brought the spit down to lubricate the shaft under his son's grip. He repeated the action. The young man's hand began to move more freely over the rigid tool.
'It's so fuckin big dad. So fuckin big...' The awe in Jack's voice was unmistakeable. 'Does that feel good?''
'Mmm-hmmm. You just keep doin that, kid. Yer dad likes that.' A pause. 'Something he'd like even more though.'
Jack edged forward again ever so slightly. The thick meat was now a few inches from his face: head flared, fully hard, ready for action. Here we fuckin well go...
'Look at me.'
Jack let his hand drop as the man's rough right hand firmly tilted his chin upwards and their eyes met. Hefty jaw, shaved head, thick scarred neck. The man gazed down at the horny scene with mounting excitement; he was gonna fuckin give it to him so good. The left hand took Jack's head and gently but firmly brought it forwards until the lad felt warm moist flesh pressing lightly against his lips.
'You know what yer dad really wants, don'tcha?'
'Yeahhhhhh. I'm gonna feed it to yer, son. You're gonna swallow your dad's tasty fuckin load. How about that?'
The boy's heart beat faster still. His dad was a mean fucker, alright. Time to submit.
'Oh yeah. Please, dad.'
He let his mouth hang slightly open and with his eyes locked upwards on the man's face, felt himself being pushed on to the smooth shiny head. Fuck. He instinctively tongued all around to moisten it - he somehow knew that was the right thing to do - and tasted the sticky juice. The strange sweet and salty flavour of pre-cum assailed his senses. The man above him groaned deeply and Jack's mind spiralled wildly into unknown territory. He was actually sucking a man's dick. Fuck. It was in his mouth.
'Awwww, fuck. Now you're talkin, son! This is gonna be so fuckin good.'
The man let his conquest take a moment to adjust. He swigged more vodka. The sight of his hard mature meat penetrating the kneeling lad's face had been well worth waiting for. The kid was straight alright; wide-eyed and innocent, just like that girl. He let out a loud animal grunt which seemed to reverberate right down into Jack's head. He was the man here, and he was in control.
The lad now looked straight ahead as he began to move backward and forward on it of his own accord, urgently trying to make it slick with his saliva. His mouth was stretched wide and tight over the glistening skin. He sucked like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. He looked back up to its owner to check he was doing it right; he didn't want to make any mistakes.
The horny porn image was still there in Jack's head: straight man dick sliding into willing female mouth. But now it was his mouth and the image couldn't match the power of the reality. The taste, the smell, the strange intensity of what he was doing was sending him down a dark road he'd never dreamed of travelling before. He was far from safety, being sexually taken by a well-hard straight man in prison; he felt weak and vulnerable, his neighbourhood terrorising a distant memory. The pressure on the back of his head now forced the meat deeper still and the man began to speak his thoughts aloud.
'Mmmmm. Yeahhh. You're doin just fine, son... You like that? You like yer dad's big dick?'
Jack moaned, overwhelmed. He was getting into a steady rhythm now.
'You know what, son? You may be straight, but your mouth is a perfect fit. A perfect fucking fit. Think we might be made for each other, know what I'm sayin? Think your mouth was just made to suck my fuckin dick. What d'ya reckon?'
This thought went round and round Jack's head, feeding his horny confusion. Maybe this was fate. Maybe that was why he was really here. He looked up at the reclined figure again; saw the wide, fuzzy chest, the powerful arm stretched out to hold his head in place; saw his life in the cell stretching out before him, month after month after month. He was getting what he deserved. He nodded.
'We're gonna do this every day from now on, son. Every fuckin day. Maybe morning and night if you're good.'
The lad nodded again, senses overpowered by the domination of strong male sex. Every day. Twice a day. Fuck. He'd better get used to it.
'Just think, all this time yer father's meat been here waiting for you... And you never knew. Well, I always knew this day would come. Yeah, I knew. You better believe it now. I'm gonna look after you, son. You keep doin this every day, dad's gonna look after you. Fuck yeah.'
Jack moaned again. That deep voice had him hooked now, it was reeling him in. What had started as roleplay was becoming slowly more real. His dad was gonna protect him. That was what he really wanted.
'Suck that dick. That's the way. Yeah. Suck it. You're a fuckin natural, son. You love it. Think you can take it all?'
The man sat up on the edge of the chair and gradually pushed his full length in, pulling the lad's head down. Jack instinctively opened his throat so as not to gag, his nose nestling into the zip fly and the wiry hairs sticking out. He was trapped there and could barely breathe. The huge shaft had taken over his mouth completely, searching it's way down into his unprotected throat. A deep grunt of pleasure came from above as he was held there a while. He breathed in the ripe smell of the man's unwashed crotch and the hidden nutsack within.
'Yeahhhhhhh, that's right. All the fuckin way, son.' The man was impressed that the boy hadn't gagged. Raw talent. This was obviously meant to be.
The slick action resumed, young lips smoothly riding up and down. The thick tool bulged with obscene vitality. Out. In. Out. In. Jack's tongue flicked over it again and again. More manly salty sweetness to puzzle his taste buds; he'd never tasted his own, after all (that would have been so gay). The more he got of it, the more he wanted. He rested one hand on the man's chunky right leg and with the other fumbled open his own zip to reach within. His dick ached for release.
'Fuckin hell, you are enjoying that aren'tcha? Think you've must've always wanted to suck yer dad's dick, huh? You just never knew it. How about that?
Another nod from below. Jack had never known his real father, and there hadn't been any decent substitutes along the way. The significance of that in relation to what he was now doing suddenly connected in his young horny mind like an electric shock. His dick surged in recognition. Years and years of hoping his dad would come back. Maybe one day, she'd always said, maybe one day. And now he was here. He needed his dad so much. He was gonna do whatever it took to make him happy. He'd be a good boy.
The man stood up to take the final lap, knees slightly bent, his mighty shaft now beginning to pummel the young man's face without mercy. Eager lips, stretched wide, clamped tight around it, urging the climax ever nearer. The lad moaned and squeezed both his dick and the man's heavily muscled thigh. This was extreme. His face was gonna get pulverized.
'Yeahhh. Take that motherfucker. Yeahhhhhh. So damn good. You wanna taste yer dad's cum, don'tcha? You wanna drink it all up?'
Jack moaned once more and nodded vigorously as his dad's thick meat was driven relentlessly into him again and again. This was where it was all leading: to that sticky white seed, the first ever mouthful of thick creamy juice from his dad. Nothing else in the world mattered now. He was taking it good and proper, lips nigh on numb, jaw aching. The older man licked his lips in anticipation and put his other hand behind the lad's head as he began the final assault. Waves of pleasure. Closing in.
'Well, don't you worry, kiddo, it's comin. Yeah, it's comin. Daddy's gonna feed it to yer reeeeal soon.'
The man gazed down with visceral pleasure as his massive dick violently rammed the lad's tender mouth. What an amazing fuckin fuck. One of the best ever. Maybe the best ever. A dad fucking his son's face. Showing him who was in charge, showing him how he had come to be. The power of the idea possessed him completely: he'd thought about it for years but the time had never been right. Now it was.
'Fuck yeaaahhh. Almost there, son. You ready for yer dad's load? ? It's comin atcha...'
The lad gazed in drunken amazement at the straight veiny piston slamming into him. The moment of truth. He gripped harder. He saw the rough hairy stomach above the well worn jeans, the hairs poking through the gaping zip, the tough guy's rigid weapon ready to shoot... Dirty. Brutal. Masculine. The thought of his dad's spunk being forcefed to him was turning him on so much now he was nearly ready to cum himself. He rubbed his aching dick inside his trousers with quiet fury. He was gonna be doin this every fuckin day. Unreal.
The man knew he was right on the edge. He was all animal now, wild with lust, breathing heavily, speed increasing. His rock hard meat surged.
'Oh yeahhh. Oh yeahhhh. It's comin now. Gonna shoot it in yer.'
Jack moaned and squeezed the meat in his boxers with frantic excitement.
'FUUUUUCK. I'm comin, son. I'm comin.'
The man felt his balls tighten and the juice begin to flow. Perfection. His eyes closed and he gave a loud guttural grunt. He gripped the lad's head tighter still, wanting to catch every last ounce of sensation.
And fire. The man's deep groan surrounded and possessed the boy. Jack gazed in horny desperation as the hard snake of thrusting muscled desire pulsed between his lips. Fuck. So hard and so hot. This was really it. His dad's rough, scarred hands held his head firm as the warm, salty sweet fluid shot out from within. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Fuck yeeeeaaahhhh.
The first blast went straight to the back of his throat with force, the rest spurted out over his waiting tongue, thick slimy manjuice gradually filling his young mouth for the first time. Jack couldn't believe just how much there was. Fuckin amazin. Fuckin a-ma-zin. He savoured the taste of his dad's spunk, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. The strong pungent taste seared itself into his memory. His dad was a real man. His dad was a real hard fucker. His dad was giving it to him.
Almost without realising it, he crossed the line himself, moaning in ecstasy as he pumped his load out under the hand still stuck inside his trousers. He involuntarily swallowed some of the accumulating gunk swimming around his mouth even as his own was spurting into his boxers. Spunk in, spunk out. The assault on his mouth subsided. He swallowed some more of his dad's seed and felt it coating his throat.
The man opened his eyes and gazed down at his still pulsing member lodged firmly between his son's smooth lips. The kid had actually taken it all. Fuck yeah. That was hot. He carefully sat back down on the chair and reclined as before, releasing the lad's head from his iron grip. Jack continued sucking the remaining juice from its source, wanting to make sure none was missed. A lazy hand stroked the lad's head and the big man breathed out deeply. He nodded at the boy.
'Fuckin hell, son. You did me proud there. Fucking good that was.' He reached down to take another swig of vodka from the cup. 'Your mouth was just made for my dick. No two ways about it.'
Jack was still engrossed with his task. He knew just where he belonged. This was home now. He carried on gently sucking the engorged head of the temporarily sated monster. Still some cum slowly emerging from the tip; his tongue lapped it up. As he did so, he stared up into the rugged stubbled face above. It was true: this was the perfect fit. It felt so good being there in his mouth.
The man locked eyes with his newly found boy and continued to stroke the short spiky hair, watching with deep, quiet satisfaction as the eager tongue finished up its tour of duty. So young and cute. He was gonna fuckin feed it to him every day. He could well imagine taking things another stage before too long, something he'd vowed he never would with anyone. But then rules were made to be broken. It seemed inevitable somehow. The porn and alcohol would do the trick, he thought. He grinned.
'Got a taste for it now, huh? Well, that's just for starters. Plenty fuckin more where that came from. You're gonna get it.'
The lad stared with a mixture of awe and submissive respect into the eyes of the tough guy who now owned him, just as he sucked the last few remaining drops of cum out. The man's satisfied grin was reassuring. Jack knew he only had to do what he was told and life would be good. The thought of being made to service his hard dad over and over again had lit a lustful flame deep within his skull. The snarled words came back to him: it's not a gay thing, it's a power thing... Too fuckin right. He felt his dick tingle in his cum-soaked boxers.
He finally let go and sat back on his heels, looking at the softening monster in dreamy, drunken contemplation. No wonder it had made women scream - imagine getting fucked by that thing, Jack. Straight male domination. The man looked at him, somehow sensing that their minds were in sync.
'It's the real deal, son. Just you and me now.'
Jack felt warm and wanted. He was gonna be taken care of alright; the spunk in his gut was proof of that. He looked up again at the muscular figure.
'Sure thing, dad. You and me.'