Daddy dick (m/m/f)
- Thread starter LawrenceJ
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Mouthfull
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Like sportsmen, with infinite seriousness, they took up their positions. The Son had her pussy first; she was angry for a moment, then realised it was all part of the procedure. She needed readying – she needed to be prepared by a smaller cock before she could even consider trying to accommodate the Daddy Dick. She felt him enter her, slowly and tenderly. She felt him flare and flex inside her with the pleasure of her wet walls on his hard, little dick. Then he was thrusting slowly, steadily, drumming her arse with his hard abs.
The Daddy Dick waited for her to focus her attention once more. Its owner gave a smiling sigh. “Just opening you out,” he said. “I don’t know what I did before my son joined me in these adventures. The number of partners who complained afterwards that it was hard to walk or sit when I was young and didn’t know how to care for a lady. His mother left me for a little dick beta nobody because she couldn’t stand it any more.”
“Couldn’t stand you fucking every girl who showed an interest,” said the son.
“That too,” said the big dicked alpha, rubbing a thumb along the length of his monster cock so that it bounced idly, precum gleaming on its tip. “I don’t think the situation arises with her new fella. Not by the way she texts me photos of her titties, anyway.”
“Dad!” moaned the Son. “You’re so embarrassing!”
“Oops,” said the Dad. “Don’t worry son, they’re not as nice the rack on this piece you’re fucking now. I get a lot of texts from women I’ve known and some of them are very nice, though. Sometimes they show me the dildos they buy to pleasure themselves in my memory. That’s a tribute. All these ladies aching for another ride on the Daddy Dick.”
The son moaned again but not from embarrassment, it seemed. “Oh yeah, they love it,” he grunted.
“But I couldn’t do it without you,” he said. “If only for comparison. I still remember your first girlfriend, the model.” His cock bulged with pleasure at the memory and a globule of translucent juice drooled from it. “Eighteen…”
She put out her tongue and caught it, just as her imagination had opened and caught the image.
“You couldn’t help yourself,” said the son, with a laugh.
“Neither could she.”
“Nobody has,” breathed the Son, his balls smacking wetly against her as he arched into her cunt.
“Once they get the first idea of it, I can see it on their faces, smell it on the air,” growled the Dad with lazy satisfaction, “whether they can guess from it bulging in my trousers, or from rumour – whether they can tell it from the way I walk, or from the blush on my son’s cheek as the conversation turns that way…”
She stared up at the dick in question, reached out to encircle it, or as much as she could (which was not far). “I bet,” she said. “Holy shit, but you’re a whore, daddy!”
“Oh yes,” he said, “but I don’t charge. The price of that expression on someone’s face – that’s all I want. The knowledge that they’ve never had one this size. Will never have one bigger. That they’ll always remember me. That I will also own their sweet sexy little pussies.” He cupped the back of her head tenderly. “I think we’re nearly ready. Let’s get this big boy lubed up.”
Her face was guided back toward his groin: first to the massive balls, which she struggled and failed to accommodate even one of in her mouth. They were heavy and full, stretched tight, and they gleamed with sweat and spit in the blazing sunshine. Then her mouth was being presented with the enormity of his cockhead, and she was being slowly forced onto it – not painfully, but regularly. Again, it was with practiced power. Like rugby players, pumped from the gym, deploying well-worn tactics with a familiar opponent. She felt herself athletically joining in the action, so that she was part of their team effort. She spat. She licked. The mighty organ shone and rippled in the sun.
Then with a gasp the Son withdrew. “I think she’s about ready,” he said.
“Nobody’s ever truly ready,” said the Dad, “but thanks, son.” They high fived, and exchanged positions.
Now she could not see him: only in her mind’s eye. His bulk, his dark energy, his musculature, his care, his attention, his engagement, his pleasure in parting her legs still wider, his concentration in bringing the huge, hugest cockhead to the velvet lips of her gateway, and the extraordinary sight of that thing, that massiveness, that icon of power, slowly, resistingly, being drawn inside her petite opening: with difficulty at first, but then a like a redwood trunk slowly combusting in the wild, wet flames of a freak forest fire, his body and hers meeting together in a crescendo of sensation and surrender, as he gripped her shoulders and fitted her precisely onto his tubesteak cock.
She gave an uncontrolled sound like a lioness roaring.
“Oh yes, I think so,” the Daddy said, as they first locked, as if he had tasted the most expensive wine on the menu but was used to it by now. “Let’s have this.”
Like rugby players they encouraged one another. Matey. Laddish. They pumped her. They roasted her. She was shagged. She was done. She did them. The Son fucked her face and gropingly played with her titties. The Dad steampiled into her.
And she came. And she came again. And she came again.
“Good girl,” said the Dad.
Then she heard a car in the drive. She froze, and she felt the other two gradually awaken to the sense of intrusion, first one and then the other fucking her more aggressively in their anxiety. Then footsteps crunched on gravel. She craned upwards, her mouth stuffed with precum-bitter dick; Dad looked at Son looked at Dad. “Who is that?” she asked them. “Who would come here?”
The answer was unexpected.
A surly young man’s voice: “Gentlemen, step away from the lady if you please.”
The Daddy Dick waited for her to focus her attention once more. Its owner gave a smiling sigh. “Just opening you out,” he said. “I don’t know what I did before my son joined me in these adventures. The number of partners who complained afterwards that it was hard to walk or sit when I was young and didn’t know how to care for a lady. His mother left me for a little dick beta nobody because she couldn’t stand it any more.”
“Couldn’t stand you fucking every girl who showed an interest,” said the son.
“That too,” said the big dicked alpha, rubbing a thumb along the length of his monster cock so that it bounced idly, precum gleaming on its tip. “I don’t think the situation arises with her new fella. Not by the way she texts me photos of her titties, anyway.”
“Dad!” moaned the Son. “You’re so embarrassing!”
“Oops,” said the Dad. “Don’t worry son, they’re not as nice the rack on this piece you’re fucking now. I get a lot of texts from women I’ve known and some of them are very nice, though. Sometimes they show me the dildos they buy to pleasure themselves in my memory. That’s a tribute. All these ladies aching for another ride on the Daddy Dick.”
The son moaned again but not from embarrassment, it seemed. “Oh yeah, they love it,” he grunted.
“But I couldn’t do it without you,” he said. “If only for comparison. I still remember your first girlfriend, the model.” His cock bulged with pleasure at the memory and a globule of translucent juice drooled from it. “Eighteen…”
She put out her tongue and caught it, just as her imagination had opened and caught the image.
“You couldn’t help yourself,” said the son, with a laugh.
“Neither could she.”
“Nobody has,” breathed the Son, his balls smacking wetly against her as he arched into her cunt.
“Once they get the first idea of it, I can see it on their faces, smell it on the air,” growled the Dad with lazy satisfaction, “whether they can guess from it bulging in my trousers, or from rumour – whether they can tell it from the way I walk, or from the blush on my son’s cheek as the conversation turns that way…”
She stared up at the dick in question, reached out to encircle it, or as much as she could (which was not far). “I bet,” she said. “Holy shit, but you’re a whore, daddy!”
“Oh yes,” he said, “but I don’t charge. The price of that expression on someone’s face – that’s all I want. The knowledge that they’ve never had one this size. Will never have one bigger. That they’ll always remember me. That I will also own their sweet sexy little pussies.” He cupped the back of her head tenderly. “I think we’re nearly ready. Let’s get this big boy lubed up.”
Her face was guided back toward his groin: first to the massive balls, which she struggled and failed to accommodate even one of in her mouth. They were heavy and full, stretched tight, and they gleamed with sweat and spit in the blazing sunshine. Then her mouth was being presented with the enormity of his cockhead, and she was being slowly forced onto it – not painfully, but regularly. Again, it was with practiced power. Like rugby players, pumped from the gym, deploying well-worn tactics with a familiar opponent. She felt herself athletically joining in the action, so that she was part of their team effort. She spat. She licked. The mighty organ shone and rippled in the sun.
Then with a gasp the Son withdrew. “I think she’s about ready,” he said.
“Nobody’s ever truly ready,” said the Dad, “but thanks, son.” They high fived, and exchanged positions.
Now she could not see him: only in her mind’s eye. His bulk, his dark energy, his musculature, his care, his attention, his engagement, his pleasure in parting her legs still wider, his concentration in bringing the huge, hugest cockhead to the velvet lips of her gateway, and the extraordinary sight of that thing, that massiveness, that icon of power, slowly, resistingly, being drawn inside her petite opening: with difficulty at first, but then a like a redwood trunk slowly combusting in the wild, wet flames of a freak forest fire, his body and hers meeting together in a crescendo of sensation and surrender, as he gripped her shoulders and fitted her precisely onto his tubesteak cock.
She gave an uncontrolled sound like a lioness roaring.
“Oh yes, I think so,” the Daddy said, as they first locked, as if he had tasted the most expensive wine on the menu but was used to it by now. “Let’s have this.”
Like rugby players they encouraged one another. Matey. Laddish. They pumped her. They roasted her. She was shagged. She was done. She did them. The Son fucked her face and gropingly played with her titties. The Dad steampiled into her.
And she came. And she came again. And she came again.
“Good girl,” said the Dad.
Then she heard a car in the drive. She froze, and she felt the other two gradually awaken to the sense of intrusion, first one and then the other fucking her more aggressively in their anxiety. Then footsteps crunched on gravel. She craned upwards, her mouth stuffed with precum-bitter dick; Dad looked at Son looked at Dad. “Who is that?” she asked them. “Who would come here?”
The answer was unexpected.
A surly young man’s voice: “Gentlemen, step away from the lady if you please.”
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They disengaged, and sat together on the bench, covering themselves barely. Daddy had his hand on her shoulder. It felt like it would sear her with its heat.
The young police officer, barely out of his teens, looked from one to the other. “If you don’t mind letting go of the lady, sir,” he said. He had a snarling Essex accent. “I’d like to know I have your full attention.” Despite his youth he had a swagger. Essex lads are like that. “Are you alright, miss?”
She bridled at that. “You patronising young shit -“
“Don’t lose your temper,” said the Dad. “You’ve been such a good girl. This young man is evidently intrigued by our... arrangement.”
“I don’t like to see women treated like property,” said the young policeman. “It’s just how I was brought up.”
“I assure you, sir,” said the Son, “her becoming our property and being used like a slut was done with her full consent.”
“You would say that, wouldn’t you? But I’ve been watching you,” he said. That explained the swagger somewhat.
“Indeed, Officer?” The two men towered over this newcomer so that even naked, even with everything stacked in his advantage, they still seemed the ones with the power.
And yet the officer did not seem fazed. “Indeed,” he said. “I saw the way you treated her. In fact I got most of it on tape.”
“I bet you did,” said the Son. He was more hotheaded than his father. She could see violence in the offing.
She stood up.
“Officer,” she said, “I promise you I have never behaved before like I did today. I’ve never been used like this. Certainly, I’ve never been pleased this way.” She licked thumb and forefinger and rolled a plump nipple between them. She watched his expression. There was pleasure in his eyes but he was firmly suppressing it. “I am a powerful woman but these men have made me a whore for them - and I did so freely.”
“I don’t get it,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “What would do that?”
She looked back at the Dad. He nodded, giving her permission. Now she looked at their interrogator. “His pony dick,” she said simply. “It unlocked something deep inside me.”
“You did all that,” said the cocky young Essex police officer, “because you like his dick.”
“Do you want to see it?” said the Dad.
They all stared at one another. The police officer wet his lips, a rare exhibition of nerves. “I think I’d better,” he said. “Gotta do my duty.”
Dad had covered up his midriff with a towel. He clutched at his bulge through the fabric, squeezing it back to rigidity, emphasising its uncommon length and girth and the heft of his unspent ballsack. “You promise this won’t get me done for indecent exposure?”
“I won’t tell,” said the policeman, almost hungrily. Impatience flared suddenly. “Come on, show me.”
The towel fell away and there it stood.
The officer’s jaw dropped. “Jesus.”
“You see,” the Dad said, gripping it overhand to demonstrate its size. “Law of the jungle.”
“Hmm,” said the police officer. “Well, if that’s how it is...” he unzipped his uniform trousers and pulled out his own dick for comparison. “Think I win this round, mate.”
Everybody stared. The atmosphere, already electric, crackled.
“Holy shit,” said the Dad.
“It’s, ah, not fully hard yet,” said the hung Essex lad police officer. “Why does your needle-dick pussylicker of a son give me a hand?”
“Son,” said the Dad, “you held the man.”
“But Dad,” said the son, fury rippling his huge musculature, “I only do that when you need the pussy juice cleaned off your pony cock.”
“You mean you can’t handle me?” The Officer chuckled.
“We live by the law of the big swinging dick, Son,” said the Dad. “When it’s ours, it gets sucked. When it’s theirs, we get down on our knees. Suck that monster. Get him hard.”
“What about me?” said the Slut.
“You?” The Dad was watching the Officer get blown. He seemed hypnotised for a moment, then he went and stood beside the young man for their dicks to be compared. “You look at this. We could be brothers.”
“Except mine’s bigger,” said the Officer. “Always will be.”
“And I’ve got the muscle, the height, the pelt,” went on Daddy, flexing for her. “You watch. You ready yourself.”
“Should I suck you now, Dad?”
“Just get me fully hard so we can properly compare,” said the Dad.
The Slut smiled and sauntered over to the lads. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I think I know a way of comparing the whole lot of you.”
And she did.
END
The young police officer, barely out of his teens, looked from one to the other. “If you don’t mind letting go of the lady, sir,” he said. He had a snarling Essex accent. “I’d like to know I have your full attention.” Despite his youth he had a swagger. Essex lads are like that. “Are you alright, miss?”
She bridled at that. “You patronising young shit -“
“Don’t lose your temper,” said the Dad. “You’ve been such a good girl. This young man is evidently intrigued by our... arrangement.”
“I don’t like to see women treated like property,” said the young policeman. “It’s just how I was brought up.”
“I assure you, sir,” said the Son, “her becoming our property and being used like a slut was done with her full consent.”
“You would say that, wouldn’t you? But I’ve been watching you,” he said. That explained the swagger somewhat.
“Indeed, Officer?” The two men towered over this newcomer so that even naked, even with everything stacked in his advantage, they still seemed the ones with the power.
And yet the officer did not seem fazed. “Indeed,” he said. “I saw the way you treated her. In fact I got most of it on tape.”
“I bet you did,” said the Son. He was more hotheaded than his father. She could see violence in the offing.
She stood up.
“Officer,” she said, “I promise you I have never behaved before like I did today. I’ve never been used like this. Certainly, I’ve never been pleased this way.” She licked thumb and forefinger and rolled a plump nipple between them. She watched his expression. There was pleasure in his eyes but he was firmly suppressing it. “I am a powerful woman but these men have made me a whore for them - and I did so freely.”
“I don’t get it,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “What would do that?”
She looked back at the Dad. He nodded, giving her permission. Now she looked at their interrogator. “His pony dick,” she said simply. “It unlocked something deep inside me.”
“You did all that,” said the cocky young Essex police officer, “because you like his dick.”
“Do you want to see it?” said the Dad.
They all stared at one another. The police officer wet his lips, a rare exhibition of nerves. “I think I’d better,” he said. “Gotta do my duty.”
Dad had covered up his midriff with a towel. He clutched at his bulge through the fabric, squeezing it back to rigidity, emphasising its uncommon length and girth and the heft of his unspent ballsack. “You promise this won’t get me done for indecent exposure?”
“I won’t tell,” said the policeman, almost hungrily. Impatience flared suddenly. “Come on, show me.”
The towel fell away and there it stood.
The officer’s jaw dropped. “Jesus.”
“You see,” the Dad said, gripping it overhand to demonstrate its size. “Law of the jungle.”
“Hmm,” said the police officer. “Well, if that’s how it is...” he unzipped his uniform trousers and pulled out his own dick for comparison. “Think I win this round, mate.”
Everybody stared. The atmosphere, already electric, crackled.
“Holy shit,” said the Dad.
“It’s, ah, not fully hard yet,” said the hung Essex lad police officer. “Why does your needle-dick pussylicker of a son give me a hand?”
“Son,” said the Dad, “you held the man.”
“But Dad,” said the son, fury rippling his huge musculature, “I only do that when you need the pussy juice cleaned off your pony cock.”
“You mean you can’t handle me?” The Officer chuckled.
“We live by the law of the big swinging dick, Son,” said the Dad. “When it’s ours, it gets sucked. When it’s theirs, we get down on our knees. Suck that monster. Get him hard.”
“What about me?” said the Slut.
“You?” The Dad was watching the Officer get blown. He seemed hypnotised for a moment, then he went and stood beside the young man for their dicks to be compared. “You look at this. We could be brothers.”
“Except mine’s bigger,” said the Officer. “Always will be.”
“And I’ve got the muscle, the height, the pelt,” went on Daddy, flexing for her. “You watch. You ready yourself.”
“Should I suck you now, Dad?”
“Just get me fully hard so we can properly compare,” said the Dad.
The Slut smiled and sauntered over to the lads. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I think I know a way of comparing the whole lot of you.”
And she did.
END
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I finally wrote the conclusion! Thanks for the encouragement.
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I finally wrote the conclusion! Thanks for the encouragement.
