- Joined
- Sep 26, 2009
- Posts
- 237
- Media
- 60
- Likes
- 153
- Points
- 438
- Location
- Chicago, IL
- Sexuality
- 100% Gay, 0% Straight
- Gender
- Male
Glaring at the remote control on his armrest, he gently pushed the play button again and immediately, his face appeared on the screen and the big erection was sliding over his lips and the sounds of his slurping and Daddy's moans of pleasure could be heard on the speakers. He forgot he had promised himself no more. But he wanted to see how he would react to the sight of that big tool now that he had jerked off twice in one hour.
He pushed the stop button when his erection began to press at him again. Time was running short. He dashed to his bedroom and grabbed his stained t-shirt and knelt down in front of the TV with his pants down past his knees. He rewound the tape to where Daddy was unwrapping his gift and rubbed quickly at his straining member as the images flashed before him. Five minutes went by. Then ten minutes. He only had about 10 minutes left, assuming this man was punctual. And he had the sense that he was.
He rewound the tape a bit and continued frantically. As he rubbed and massaged himself, he entertained the thought of Daddy walking in on him like this. That sent him into his third climax and he leaned forward and shot dribbles of cum onto his poor t-shirt.
Sam hit the stop button. Then he wiped off quickly and went to the bathroom to wash up and pee, scrunching up his sticky shirt and tossing it on the bed as he walked by. He buttoned up his fly and washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He glanced at himself in the mirror and gained some composure. He felt completely drained of any sexual desire.
"No more," he told himself. "I'm in control now."
And then the doorbell rang. Sam let out a gasp. It was all so surreal, from the time he let that pizza delivery boy into his apartment to this exact moment, it seemed like some sort of bad dream... some sort of fantasy that wasn't really happening. Fantasies weren't supposed to be real, after all.
The doorbell rang again and Sam crept out to the living room and felt a bit numb as he glanced through the peephole and saw not only the face of the man who's cock he had sucked, but also the pizza kid waiting behind him. The man started pounding on the door and said in a somewhat loud voice, "I know you're in there, boy!"
Concerned right away that the neighbors would hear, he unlocked the door and let them in. They both sauntered past him like they owned the place and Sam glanced around outside to see if anyone had been watching or listening. There didn't seem to be anyone else out there, so he carefully shut the door and felt a sense of dread as the lock clicked into place.
"Where were you yesterday, boy?" the man he had called Daddy said.
Daddy stood over by the recliner and rested his arm on the top of it. He was dressed casually, much like Sam was, with jeans and t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He had a full head of dark brown hair that was neatly slicked back and his face was clean-shaven. His eyes bore into Sam like lasers.
Daddy had a thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans, which drew Sam's gaze momentarily to the pressing issue of the bulge. He looked away for fear it would inspire another erection in his already worn-out member.
"I... I... I don't know what you're talking about," Sam stuttered.
The kid who had been dressed up as the pizza delivery boy, the one who had jumped him with the chloroform rag, was leaning over his kitchen counter with an amused look on his face. He was also plainly dressed in t-shirt, jeans and a gray flannel jacket. On the surface, it just looked like two friends over for a visit, with one being a bit older and bigger than the other.
"Of course you do," Daddy told him. "I gave you a list of instructions to follow yesterday and you failed to obey."
"Punishment time," the kid in the kitchen said as if it were a fact.
Sam crossed the floor and stood near his small, dining room table with chairs for two. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to look either of them in the eyes after what he had done the other night.
"What do you want with me?" he stammered. "I'm NOT gay."
"I didn't say you were," Daddy answered. "I don't believe in those labels. You simply are what you were made to be. There's what you're supposed to be, what they teach you. And then there's what you are."
Even as the man stood there philosophizing, Sam felt like he was being talked down to. The 19-year-old spectator in his kitchen also seemed full of himself and much taller, even though he stood the same height as Sam. Only the older man actually stood taller than the both of them. The way he carried himself, he seemed like a giant.
"I don't need to hear all your bullshit!" Sam growled defiantly. "I just want to know what you want. Why did you do it? Why did you tape it?" The anger and frustration in his voice was weakened only slightly by the fact that he was again stealing glances at the tightness in the man's crotch. His jeans seemed worn and faded in that particular area.
"You're just a confused, little boy," he replied calmly, despite Sam's outburst. "You need guidance and discipline."
"I don't need any goddamn help!" Sam shot back. "You're just criminals screwing up my life!" Then he picked up the phone and pointed it at the both of them. "Would you like me to call the police? Huh?"
The kid in the kitchen snickered. Daddy just grinned and told Sam it was perfectly fine. "Go ahead," he said. "Call them. You can tell them the whole story and we'll give them a copy of the videotape for evidence."
He pushed the stop button when his erection began to press at him again. Time was running short. He dashed to his bedroom and grabbed his stained t-shirt and knelt down in front of the TV with his pants down past his knees. He rewound the tape to where Daddy was unwrapping his gift and rubbed quickly at his straining member as the images flashed before him. Five minutes went by. Then ten minutes. He only had about 10 minutes left, assuming this man was punctual. And he had the sense that he was.
He rewound the tape a bit and continued frantically. As he rubbed and massaged himself, he entertained the thought of Daddy walking in on him like this. That sent him into his third climax and he leaned forward and shot dribbles of cum onto his poor t-shirt.
Sam hit the stop button. Then he wiped off quickly and went to the bathroom to wash up and pee, scrunching up his sticky shirt and tossing it on the bed as he walked by. He buttoned up his fly and washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He glanced at himself in the mirror and gained some composure. He felt completely drained of any sexual desire.
"No more," he told himself. "I'm in control now."
And then the doorbell rang. Sam let out a gasp. It was all so surreal, from the time he let that pizza delivery boy into his apartment to this exact moment, it seemed like some sort of bad dream... some sort of fantasy that wasn't really happening. Fantasies weren't supposed to be real, after all.
The doorbell rang again and Sam crept out to the living room and felt a bit numb as he glanced through the peephole and saw not only the face of the man who's cock he had sucked, but also the pizza kid waiting behind him. The man started pounding on the door and said in a somewhat loud voice, "I know you're in there, boy!"
Concerned right away that the neighbors would hear, he unlocked the door and let them in. They both sauntered past him like they owned the place and Sam glanced around outside to see if anyone had been watching or listening. There didn't seem to be anyone else out there, so he carefully shut the door and felt a sense of dread as the lock clicked into place.
"Where were you yesterday, boy?" the man he had called Daddy said.
Daddy stood over by the recliner and rested his arm on the top of it. He was dressed casually, much like Sam was, with jeans and t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He had a full head of dark brown hair that was neatly slicked back and his face was clean-shaven. His eyes bore into Sam like lasers.
Daddy had a thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans, which drew Sam's gaze momentarily to the pressing issue of the bulge. He looked away for fear it would inspire another erection in his already worn-out member.
"I... I... I don't know what you're talking about," Sam stuttered.
The kid who had been dressed up as the pizza delivery boy, the one who had jumped him with the chloroform rag, was leaning over his kitchen counter with an amused look on his face. He was also plainly dressed in t-shirt, jeans and a gray flannel jacket. On the surface, it just looked like two friends over for a visit, with one being a bit older and bigger than the other.
"Of course you do," Daddy told him. "I gave you a list of instructions to follow yesterday and you failed to obey."
"Punishment time," the kid in the kitchen said as if it were a fact.
Sam crossed the floor and stood near his small, dining room table with chairs for two. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to look either of them in the eyes after what he had done the other night.
"What do you want with me?" he stammered. "I'm NOT gay."
"I didn't say you were," Daddy answered. "I don't believe in those labels. You simply are what you were made to be. There's what you're supposed to be, what they teach you. And then there's what you are."
Even as the man stood there philosophizing, Sam felt like he was being talked down to. The 19-year-old spectator in his kitchen also seemed full of himself and much taller, even though he stood the same height as Sam. Only the older man actually stood taller than the both of them. The way he carried himself, he seemed like a giant.
"I don't need to hear all your bullshit!" Sam growled defiantly. "I just want to know what you want. Why did you do it? Why did you tape it?" The anger and frustration in his voice was weakened only slightly by the fact that he was again stealing glances at the tightness in the man's crotch. His jeans seemed worn and faded in that particular area.
"You're just a confused, little boy," he replied calmly, despite Sam's outburst. "You need guidance and discipline."
"I don't need any goddamn help!" Sam shot back. "You're just criminals screwing up my life!" Then he picked up the phone and pointed it at the both of them. "Would you like me to call the police? Huh?"
The kid in the kitchen snickered. Daddy just grinned and told Sam it was perfectly fine. "Go ahead," he said. "Call them. You can tell them the whole story and we'll give them a copy of the videotape for evidence."
