Page 78 of Dangle

I hummed in the back of my throat, looking up at him as I did so. He hissed, his hand gripping my hair. “Brats who tease Daddy do not get rewards,” he said.

A deep breath entered through my nose at the possibility that Slone would deny me. That was the worst. When this was over, I wanted his cock, so I needed to behave. The breath slipped free of my hold, and my eyes closed in a couple of slow blinks. Slone guided my head to rest on his thigh. A moment later, his voice rumbled as he read to me from a book he had on his eReader: erotic stories about boys and their Daddies and all the things they could do together.

Words from the story floated around me. Reality fell away, receding like the tide, only to return. Sometimes softly. Sometimes in a rush. Through it all, the low, deep, raspy rumble of Slone’s voice blanketed me, comforting me.

Until it didn’t.

The peace of holding him in my mouth disappeared not suddenly but like a slow, foggy mist rolling back to reveal everything hidden by it only moments before. Slone’s voice grewmore and more prominent. And the more aware of him and the words he spoke I became, the harder my cock got. The more it throbbed. Then my hole spasmed and joined the torture Trey party.

I gasped.

“Breathe, baby, you’re okay. Daddy’s here.”

I whined. I needed more; I needed him.

He pulled me off his now rock-hard, throbbing dick, using the shirt under him to clean the drool I only just noticed from my face and his legs. “Such a good, little cockwarmer. You deserve a treat. Do you want to ride me?” I shook my head, and he smiled, “Or do you want me to pin you down and fuck your tight, little ass?”

I nodded. “That. Please, that.”

He stood me up, stripped me, then positioned me on the couch on my back.

“No, please…” I preferred head down, ass up when I felt this needy and clingy.

“Are you safe wording, or is Daddy’s little slut just complaining?”

“No!” I gasped, knowing he was going to ask if wanted to use the safe word even though I hadn’t said it. “No! Not safe wording.” I didn’t want that. I really, really didn’t. I wanted him to fuck me. Turning into a tear-stained, begging mess with snot running down my face was humiliating, but I secretly loved that he tore away all the filters.

“I didn’t think so. Daddy prefers looking at his little slut when he begs and cries for him. It’s the best present ever,” he said. “Now grab your knees.”

I pulled them to my chest, and he rolled me onto my shoulders, sliding his thighs under my lower back to hold me in place—my ass resting against his torso. So out of it, I jumpedwhen he cleared his throat and a long string of spit leaked from his mouth onto my exposed hole.

“Holy shit! That’s…” A gasp cut off my words.

His fingers—first one, then immediately he added another—twirled through the spit and breached me. They spread and fucked and rubbed as he fucked my hole, pegging me perfectly to send electric shocks arcing through me. He added a third finger and a twisting motion to the fucking, spreading, rubbing, and pegging. His knuckles scraped over the nerves buried inside me. One pass, then another of his knuckles, then he curled his fingers, tickling and dragging his fingers over the perfect spot, relentless.

My brain went offline. “Slone!” I screamed.

“Don’t fucking come,” he commanded.

I gripped my cock, squeezing it tight at the base. Tears ran down my face as I sobbed, “Please. Please. Oh, fucking God, please. I need your cock. I need to come.”

“You beg so fucking pretty. How can I deny you?”

A bottle of lube appeared, upended in his hand as if by magic. The drizzle pouring from the tip ran down his hand and into my hole where he held me spread open. The cool liquid did nothing to cool the lust and need inside me.

“FUCK!” I screamed, the word forcing its way up my throat from my soul and out through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. It echoed off the walls.

Slone moved back, my ass dropping into his lap before he raised onto his knees, my legs pushed up onto his shoulders. The head of his cock pressed and pressed and pressed. I arched my back as he entered me; the motion tilting my hips. The first thrust nailed my prostate, and not coming was no longer an option. Cum shot from my tip as another scream ripped from my throat.

“Motherfuck!” he grunted, his hips setting up a relentless pace, pegging me over and over.

The orgasm tearing me apart went on and on even after cum quit spurting from my tip. Too sensitive. Too, too sensitive. My cum-sticky hand fell from my soft flesh to push at his straining abs, trying—albeit half-heartedly—to lessen the brutal pounding.

“Look how beautiful you are spread out under Daddy with my cock splitting you open.”

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. It hurts. Oh fuck. Jesus fuck, it hurts.”

He paused and asked, “You okay?”