Page 14 of Daddy's Pride

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Page 14 of Daddy's Pride

“Oh, Daddy.”

I alternate between gently biting his skin and kissing and licking the hurt away. “Is that what you want Daddy to do, boy?”

“Yes.”

“Will it help you relax?”

“Uh-huh. Please tell me you’ve got lube and condoms in here, Daddy. I do, but they’re downstairs, in my rucksack.”

“I do.”

“Thank fuck for that. You’ve got me all needy and hard.”

I chuckle and tweak his nipple again. “That was the idea, boy.”

I spin him around and walk him backwards until the bed stops him. I massage his nipple through his t-shirt, squeezing it every few seconds as I kiss him. His cock is a steel rod against my leg. I’m just as hard. My dick strains against the confines of my trousers, an uncomfortable reminder that we’re not nearly naked enough.

“Use your safewords if you need to, boy.”

“Golf, Daddy.”

“Fuck, why is that so damned sexy?”

He grins. “If you think that’s sexy, how about Foxtrot-Uniform-Charlie-Kilo me, Daddy?”

I fist his t-shirt and draw him to me for a swift but passionate kiss, then yank his shirt over his head and push him onto the bed. He lies sprawled on his back, panting, his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, spread wide enough for me to kneel between them. His nipples are hard nubs, the one I’ve been tweaking and pinching redder than the other. He has a fine spattering of strawberry-blond chest hair and an almost-ginger happy trail I long to run my tongue down.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, boy.”

“You’re pretty damn hot too, Daddy.”

I take my shirt off, kneel over him, hold his wrists against the bed on either side of his head, and claim his mouth once more. Is this happening, or am I asleep and dreaming? The heat of his skin against mine feels real enough. So does the eager press of his lips and the way he sucks on my tongue. He thrusts his hips up to meet mine, the hardness of his cock rubbing against mine through our too-thick jeans. Definitely real. A boy has landed on my doorstep, and now he’s on my bed, asking me to fuck him.

I release his wrists to undo his jeans, yank them over his hips and down his legs, and toss them aside. His cock tents his loose boxer shorts. They come off next, my actions as unceremonious and not even remotely gentle. His ginger pubic hair is neatly groomed. His slightly curved cock stands to attention. Clear pre-cum drips from the tip, begging to be licked.

“Beautiful.” I grasp his wrists again, holding him tight as I lick my way down his happy trail and his length to taste that bead of salty pre-cum.

He arches his back. “Oh, Daddy!”

I stand tall and flip him onto his stomach.

He lets out a surprised cry. “You’re so strong, Daddy.” His voice is filled with needy awe.

I smack his arse lightly. “Don’t move, boy.”

He lies still as I fetch lube and a condom and strip naked. I lie half over him, my cock prodding against the fleshiest part of his thigh.

He shivers. “Daddy.”

“Yes, boy?”

“I need you.”

I hold his wrists against the small of his back and gently bite his shoulder. “Safeword, boy.”

“Golf, Daddy.”

The throatiness of his voice sends a shiver of electricity down my spine. Still holding his wrists firmly, I drizzle lube over his crack.




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