Im back with a new story in Christmas theme!!!
Hope you like this, and read my other stories too!! Love Yaa.
The air hung thick with the metallic tang of sweat and anticipation. I, Chris, a man built like a granite mountain, lying under him, the skinny kid, a stark contrast to my own broad shoulders and powerful thighs. This wasn't supposed to be a test of my endurance, but of his. My daughter, Lily, had chosen this… boy as her future. I'd been tasked with sizing him up, checking the mettle of the man who would one day be responsible for my daughter’s safety. But the kid had other ideas.
He leaned down, the faint scent of cheap cologne mixing with the acrid smell of fear rising from my gut. This spindly thing between my legs felt like a blacksmith's hammer striking at a weak point. The first thrust hit with the brutal force of a battering ram. A cry, a strangled moan escaped my lips. The weight of him pressed down, his hips grinding against my core, a low, guttural groan rattling through my body. My muscles, sculpted over decades of hard work, quivered beneath him, each pulse a testament to the sheer power of the assault.
“Ungh... You’re... tearing me apart,” I rasped, the words choked with pleasure and pain. My massive biceps strained, my broad chest heaving. Each thrust was a physical and emotional blow. I felt my internal organs shifting, the pressure building, intensifying with each surge.
"This is nothing compared to what your princess has," the kid snarled, his voice a low growl. His words, like daggers, jabbed at the wellspring of pride within me. He wasn't just assessing my strength; he was testing my limits, pushing me to the edge of my endurance and my dignity. "A princess like her needs a protector. Are you strong enough? Are you worthy?"
"Worthy?" I spat out the word, the sound harsh and laced with disgust. "you little shit... You think you can get me broken? I'm supposed to be assessing your quality, not the other way around."
He laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that echoed the brutality of his movements. "Quality, huh? Let's see how much you're willing to endure, Chris." The kid was a predator, his movements smooth, precise, ruthless. And I, the hunter, the protector, was now the prey. I was about to break him, to prove he didn’t know what it was like to face true strength. But as I felt that familiar burning sensation, I was surprised by my own response; I was not broken. I just wanted to prove my masculinity. My mighty body trembled with every inch of the kid's monstrous cock.
My defiance wouldn't be broken. The pain was a physical manifestation of my anger. My pride was more important than my body.
-------------------
The Christmas specials were grating, saccharine drivel. I, Chris, felt the familiar knot tighten in my gut. Lily and her wife had been gone all day, shopping for the latest in holiday finery and, apparently, whatever hideous beauty treatments were the rage now. Liam, that skinny prick, sat slumped on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. He wasn't exactly enthralled. I wasn't.
Lily’s been gone for two years. She’d come home for Christmas; brought this… this Liam to meet us. A couple of years ago, I could barely suppress my anxiety about the way she was growing up. Now here I am, supposed to be impressed by him, but every fibre of my being screamed this wasn’t right. I couldn’t stomach that he sat there, seemingly content, while a flickering image of some snow-dusted town chirped its greeting, an unwelcome background to my mounting displeasure.
This wasn’t some wholesome Hallmark flick; this was my daughter's future. My blood, my flesh. And this… this nothing… would be tasked with caring for her?
His posture, his movements—everything about him screamed “inefficient.” A flimsy, overblown notion of masculinity. And the way he treated the house? Like it was a foreign land, something he had no need to respect. That’s fine. He couldn't afford a house anyway.
“You know,” I began, my voice a low rumble, "that new TV stand has got a bit of a wobble. It's not going to last long. Probably needs some reinforcement." I cast a look over to Liam. It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. And the kid didn’t flinch, didn’t seem to take any notice.
“Yeah, I noticed that,” he drawled, eyes still glued to the screen, unfazed. I'd expected an embarrassed mumble or a muttered apology. Instead, it was like he wasn't even trying to avoid eye contact. He seemed like he was trying to gauge my response, and why this was the way I was.
My gut churned. This insolence. This… lack of respect. I adjusted my massive shoulders, feeling the weight of my frustration mounting. I couldn’t explain it, but this... this felt like a threat. He didn't get it. He wouldn't get it. Not in a million years.
It was more than my daughter's choice. It was my future. And I wasn’t about to let this… this nothing stand in the way of it. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife, even across the room.
"If you're going to stay here," I muttered, "I expect you to treat this house like you'd treat your own." My voice was gravelly, edged with a barely contained anger. The words were laced with the subtle tremor of my growing fury, yet there was a hint of anticipation. My daughter's happiness. My legacy. And this skinny, entitled brat stood in the way. I wanted to see if he could handle the pressure, or if he was just some delicate flower.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. They held a strange mixture of arrogance and… something else. Fear, maybe? Or defiance? I couldn't quite place it. But I knew one thing: this wasn't going to be easy.
He cleared his throat, a sound that seemed to echo the emptiness in the room. "Look, Chris," he began, his voice surprisingly calm, almost casual, "I get that you're...protective. It's understandable. But you're also… looking at things in a very old-fashioned way."
My jaw tightened. "Old-fashioned? What are you talking about?"
He took a deep breath, and for a moment, I thought he might flinch. But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward, his posture oddly confident. "Lily… she sees something in me that you don't. Things you haven't experienced in years. You’re a man of tradition. But tradition is not everything." He paused, his gaze unwavering. "She chose me not for my skills in fixing TV stands, or for my work ethic. She chose me for… well, for me." He paused, and I could feel the tension in the room increase. "For my… uh… capabilities."
He paused again, a deliberate pause, before adding, "You see, Chris, Lily’s not entirely...conventional." And for a moment, there was a chilling intimacy in the way he looked at me.
My blood ran cold. This was the opposite of what I had anticipated. This wasn't the traditional path, the expected one, the route to my respect.
"Capabilities? What on earth are you talking about?" I stammered, the words catching in my throat.
He smirked. "Let's just say... I've got things to offer that... might surprise you," he said, his eyes locking with mine. "Things that, you know...a lot of people can't resist." He leaned in slightly, and there was an almost predatory quality to his tone. The way he looked at me was a little unsettling, like he knew something about me that I didn't know myself.
He paused, and for a moment, I felt the room spin. Then he spoke again, the words a brutal, unexpected truth. "Let's just say... a certain… well... a certain size, and some...skills... Lily finds irresistible. Thirteen inches. And I'm pretty sure you'll know what I mean. Plenty of people just can't get enough of it."
The room seemed to shrink around me. My mind reeled. "You... you just... said that!?" My voice was a low growl, a rumble of fury shaking the room. My hands clenched into fists, the veins bulging in my temples. This… this impudent brat. How dare he?
Liam, however, remained unfazed. He simply leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's the truth, Chris. And you already know it." His eyes held a strange mixture of arrogance and something else entirely. Contempt? Perhaps.
I felt my blood boil. How dare this… this boy talk to me like this, in my own home? My daughter, my pride, reduced to some vulgar joke in his eyes. He didn’t care about anything I said or did.
But then... a change, a shift. Something in his demeanor. It wasn't arrogance anymore. It was a calculated show of strength. He stood up, and in that moment, something became very, very clear. He wasn’t interested in a discussion; he was interested in something else entirely.
"Truth, huh?" I growled, my voice dripping with venom. "Well, let's see how much truth you have."
Liam's eyes lingered on my torso for a beat, then he slowly unbuttoned his pants, revealing... a sight that stopped me dead in my tracks. He wasn't pulling a knife, or a gun. He was pulling out a weapon of a different kind. A weapon that seemed... surprisingly... substantial. Even in its flaccid state, there was undeniable power to it. It was huge.
It hung there, a testament to a certain... caliber. Thirteen inches, he had said. And in that moment, everything changed. My mind, which had been consumed by rage, was suddenly filled with a very different sensation. A sickening, almost physical, sort of... shock.
His gaze lingered on mine, a silent challenge in his eyes. He wasn't just flexing a muscle; he was flexing something far more potent. My blood, suddenly, wasn't just boiling. It was… pulsing. My jaw dropped open, not because I was shocked, but because I knew that something had just changed. My mind. Everything about me had changed.
"Well?" he said, a smirk spreading across his face. "What do you think now? Is that what Lily sees in me?" His voice was calm, utterly confident. His eyes narrowed. "Let me show you how it works, Chris."
The room suddenly felt smaller, and my muscles tightened. There was a horrifying silence. The silence of expectation, of sudden, terrible understanding. This wasn't the fight I had anticipated, but this new fight was far more dangerous and exciting than I had expected. And in a way, even the most traditional men like me sometimes can’t help but wonder what it's like on the other side of the table. I suddenly wanted to know the answer to that question.
My mind fractured. One minute, I was a righteous storm of indignation, the next… adrift. He just stood there, this skinny, arrogant punk, his cock hanging out, thick and heavy even when soft. Thirteen inches. He’d said thirteen inches. Even flaccid, the thing was monstrous. How could something that big… fit… anywhere? My thoughts scattered like startled birds.
A strange curiosity warred with the remnants of my outrage. How? Just… how? I found myself reaching out, almost against my will. My fingers brushed against it. Smooth, warm skin. A surprising heft. I traced the length, feeling the vein throb beneath my touch. It was real. Impossibly real.
Liam’s smirk widened. "Go on," he purred, his voice a low rumble. "Get a good grip."
My hand tightened involuntarily, squeezing slightly. And then it started to happen. The cock in my hand pulsed, growing thicker, longer, harder. It filled my palm, throbbing with a life of its own. The heat radiating from it burned against my skin.
A strangled groan escaped my lips. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be the one in control. The protector. The dominant one. But here I was, holding this kid's massive dick, feeling it harden in my grip, the sheer size of it overwhelming my senses.
My breath hitched. The world narrowed to the feel of that cock in my hand, the heat, the weight, the undeniable power of it. My own cock stirred, a confused, unwelcome response. This was wrong. This was… everything I wasn't. But my hand wouldn’t let go. I couldn't let go.
He stepped closer, his body almost brushing against mine. “Feels good, doesn't it?” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Just wait until you feel it somewhere else.”
My body trembled. Fear, confusion, and a horrifying flicker of… anticipation… warred within me. He had crossed a line. Shattered every boundary. And yet… and yet… I couldn't bring myself to pull away. He was leading me somewhere I never thought I’d go. Somewhere dark. Somewhere dangerous. And I was terrified. And… excited.
His smirk was infuriating, yet… captivating. That monstrous thing, his cock, dwarfed my hand. Even flaccid, it was a ridiculous size; the head alone nearly filled my palm. His skin was smooth, warm against my rough callouses. As he moved, pre-cum, slick and sticky, smeared across my fingers. It was disgusting… and strangely exhilarating.
My hands, hands that could bench press a small car, felt clumsy, almost delicate, next to that ridiculous thing. My fingers, strong and capable, wouldn't even come close to circling his girth. It was obscene, unreal.
He traced the thick vein running down the length of it with my own fingers, a deliberate taunt. The gasp that escaped me wasn't from pain, but from a raw, primal shock. It was the gasp of a man confronted with something beyond his comprehension. It felt wrong, utterly and completely wrong, yet I couldn't tear my gaze – or my hand – away.
Even standing, my broad shoulders and barrel chest, usually a source of pride, felt insignificant, dwarfed by his sheer… masculinity. It was a humiliating and strangely exciting juxtaposition. He'd turned the tables on me completely. He was in control. I was the one being assessed, being measured, being… tested.
"Go on, Daddy," he breathed, his voice laced with a mocking tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. "Do the thing you might wanna do." The words hung in the air, a perverse invitation, a challenge, a… dare. And against every instinct, every fiber of my being screaming "no," my hand tightened. My body betrayed me. My hand was clinging to it now. It was no longer disgust, it was something else. Something I had never even considered.
“Daddy,” he purred again, the word a mockery of everything I held sacred. My hand, still wrapped around his engorged cock, tightened involuntarily. Disgust warred with a horrifying fascination. What the hell am I doing? My inner voice screamed, a desperate plea for reason in the face of the rising tide of something dark and unfamiliar.
This wasn’t me. Chris, the rock, the protector, reduced to this… this quivering mess of conflicting desires. My daughter, my Lily, loved this… boy. Loved this. The thought sent a jolt of possessiveness through me, a primal urge to reclaim what felt stolen. But stolen by what? By whom? This wasn't a fight I understood. This wasn't about strength, or tradition, or any of the things that defined me.
Liam’s eyes, dark and intense, bored into mine. He saw my struggle, my confusion. He saw the cracks in my carefully constructed facade of masculinity. And he reveled in it. This wasn't just about sex; it was about power. He was dismantling me, piece by piece, stripping away my defenses, exposing my vulnerabilities. He wanted to own me the same way he owned my daughter. And to my surprise, maybe that was what I wanted too.
"How much time do we have?" I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The thought of Lily and Ethel walking in on… this… sent a wave of panic through me.
"Plenty of time, Daddy," he murmured, his voice a silken caress against my raw nerves. "They won't be back for hours. Plenty of time to… explore."
Explore. The word dripped with innuendo, a promise of something forbidden, something dangerous. My stomach churned. I wanted to pull away, to reject this… this violation of everything I believed in. But my hand remained, stubbornly, defiantly, wrapped around his cock. It pulsed in my grip, a living, breathing testament to my weakness. My betrayal.
"What do you want?" I growled, the words torn from my throat.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "I want to show you what your daughter sees in me," he whispered, his voice laced with a chilling confidence. "I want to show you… everything."
My breath hitched. His words were a threat, a promise, a challenge. And in that moment, I knew. This wasn't about Lily anymore. This was about me. About confronting the fear, the confusion, the unwelcome arousal that threatened to shatter my world. This was about facing the truth, no matter how ugly, how terrifying it might be. And maybe, just maybe, about discovering something new about myself in the process. Something I never wanted to know.
“On your knees, Daddy.” His voice, soft yet commanding, sent a tremor through my massive frame. My muscles, honed from years of hard labor, felt weak, and useless. The floor was cold against my knees as I lowered myself, my large body forced into a position of subservience. The world tilted, and I was forced to look up at him, up at that monstrous cock, now fully erect, a throbbing obelisk of flesh against my face. It seemed impossible, obscene, that something so large could belong to someone so slender. My face, normally a mask of stern control, was contorted with a mixture of disgust, fear, and… God help me… arousal.
Liam stood above me, his lean frame almost fragile in comparison to my bulk, yet radiating an undeniable power. He was enjoying this, relishing my humiliation. I could see it in the glint of his eyes, the curl of his lips. He’d taken my strength, my authority, and replaced it with… this.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. My rough, calloused hands, hands built for work, for protection, now trembled uselessly at my sides. I wanted to refuse, to fight back, but my body, traitorous, already obeyed. My lips parted, dry and trembling.
He pressed the head of his cock against my mouth, the smooth, slick skin a shocking contrast to the roughness of my lips. “That’s right, Daddy. Good boy.” The words, dripping with mockery, were a brand, searing themselves into my soul.
“Imagine Lily down here, just like you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my cheek. “Begging for it. Her pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock, just like yours will be. Her tight little pussy stretched wide by me, just like…”
“Stop…” I choked out, the word a desperate plea lost in the rising tide of shame. I didn’t want to hear it. Didn't want to imagine my daughter, my precious Lily, subjected to this… this degradation. But the image, vivid and horrifying, bloomed in my mind, twisting the knot in my gut, and fueling a perverse, unwelcome arousal.
He chuckled a low, cruel sound that echoed the hollowness in my chest. “Can’t you see, Daddy? She loves it. She craves it. Just like you will.” He pressed his cock further against my lips, the pressure unrelenting.
My knees dug into the cold floor, my body a battlefield of conflicting emotions. Shame, disgust, anger… and a terrifying, undeniable flicker of… want. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted… I wanted…
“That's right, Daddy,” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph. “On your knees. That's where you belong.” And with a final, decisive push, he forced his cock to part my lips, slowly stretching them wide.
The world exploded. The first intrusion was a violation. A slick, fleshy invasion that sent a wave of nausea through me. The head of his cock, impossibly large, stretched my lips, the unfamiliar taste and texture triggering a primal revulsion. My gag reflex fought against the intrusion, my body rebelling against this act of degradation.
"That's it, Daddy," Liam purred, his voice a sickening blend of mockery and encouragement. "Take it. Just like your precious Lily does."
The image of my daughter, her mouth stretched around this… this thing, flashed through my mind, adding another layer of shame to the already overwhelming cocktail of emotions. I wanted to spit it out, to reject him utterly, but his hand, firm on the back of my head, prevented escape. He was in control, dictating every sensation, every humiliation.
He pushed deeper, the thick shaft stretching my mouth impossibly wide. My jaw ached, my throat burned, but the sheer size, the undeniable presence of it, triggered a horrifying, unwanted flicker of pleasure. A desperate whimper escaped my lips, a sound of surrender, of shame.
“Good boy,” Liam whispered, his voice laced with triumph. “You like that, don’t you, Daddy? Just like Lily. She can’t get enough of it.” His words were poison, each syllable twisting the knife of humiliation deeper into my gut. And yet… they fueled the fire, the unwelcome heat that coiled in my belly.
He began to thrust, slow, deliberate strokes that stretched me to my limit. The feeling of being filled, of being used, was a violation of everything I believed in. And yet… the rhythm, the pressure, the sheer animalistic nature of it, ignited a spark of something forbidden, something… exciting.
My body betrayed me, my hand reaching up, involuntarily, to grip his thigh, steadying myself against the relentless assault. My breath came in ragged gasps, a mixture of disgust and… arousal. My mind screamed in protest, while my body yielded, inexorably, to the overwhelming sensations.
"Imagine her throat, Daddy," Liam growled, his voice rough with lust. "Imagine how deep I take her. How she gags, how she chokes..."
His words were a brutal assault, designed to break me, to shatter the last vestiges of my resistance. And they worked. The image, vivid and disturbing, sent a shockwave through me, a perverse mixture of horror and… excitement.
With a final, brutal thrust, he forced his entire length down my throat, reaching a point of no return. My body convulsed, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as I took him fully, completely. He was inside me now, violating me, owning me. And in that moment, I knew I was lost.
Each thrust was a violation, a deep, invasive assault on my senses. Liam’s cock, thick and throbbing, slammed against the back of my throat, triggering wave after wave of gagging. My eyes watered, and my body convulsed, but his hand clamped tight on my head, held me in place, forcing me to take him, to endure.
"You like that, don't you, old man?" he sneered, his voice thick with contempt. "Taking my cock just like your little slut of a daughter does. You’re both just whores for my dick."
Shame burned through me, hot and searing. I was a man of strength, of control, yet here I was, reduced to nothing more than a receptacle for this… this boy's pleasure. My own body betrayed me, my muscles twitching in response to the deep, invasive strokes, each involuntary spasm a fresh wave of humiliation.
“She does gag like you do, Daddy!” he taunted, his hips pistoning relentlessly. “and she whimpers and cries when I take her deep. I bet her pretty little throat stretches just as nicely as yours. A family trait, perhaps?”
His words were a brutal assault, designed to break me, to shatter the last vestiges of my pride. He was using Lily, my precious daughter, as a weapon, twisting my love for her into a source of shame and arousal. And it was working. Despite my disgust, my horror, a part of me, a dark, unwelcome part, responded to the rhythm, to the pressure, to the sheer animalistic nature of it all.
“You’re such a good little cocksucker, Daddy,” he groaned, his voice rough with lust. "Almost as good as Lily. Almost."
He continued to use my throat, his pace increasing, his thrusts becoming harder, more brutal. My body, trapped between revulsion and a horrifying, undeniable pleasure, responded with involuntary shudders and moans. Each sound was a testament to my defeat, a confession of my weakness.
He pulled back slightly, his cock still slick with my saliva. “You know,” he said, his voice low and suggestive, “Lily’s always so grateful after I fuck her throat good. And I like to show her... 'appreciation'. She knows how to use that pretty little mouth of hers. Maybe… after I’m done stretching your throat..., I’ll show you that kind of appreciation. Give you a taste of what she has. How about that, Daddy? A little father-daughter memory shared?”
“Appreciation?” The word echoed in my mind, a question mark against the backdrop of his brutal possession. What fresh hell was this? My thoughts, fragmented and disjointed, swirled in a vortex of confusion and dread. What did he have planned next for this humiliation he call appreciation. A shiver, a mix of fear and a morbid curiosity, ran down my spine.
He pulled out, the sudden absence of his cock leaving a hollowness that was almost as disturbing as the fullness had been. Then, smack, Before I could catch my breath, a hard, stinging slap. His cock, still slick with my spit, connected with my cheek, then another, and another. Each slap was a punctuation mark, emphasizing my degradation. Heavy, hard, wet… the sounds amplified the humiliation. My face burned, but the shame burned hotter.
“On your feet, Daddy.” The command, though spoken softly, held an iron edge. I obeyed, my legs shaky, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of his assault.
He steered me towards a nearby mirror, the cold glass reflecting my shame back at me. “Bend over,” he instructed, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. “Ass high. Legs wide.”
My mind rebelled. This was too much. I was a man, not… not this. But my body, still buzzing from the forced intimacy, was no longer entirely under my control.
“What… what are you going to do?” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
“Show you what ‘appreciation’ means,” he purred, stepping behind me. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Lily knows all about appreciation. She begs for it, in this very position. Her tight little ass, just like yours, offered up to me. Her pretty little hole, stretched wide, waiting for me to…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but the implication, raw and explicit, hung in the air. My muscles tensed, my body caught between revulsion and a horrifying, unwelcome arousal. He was deliberately pushing me, using Lily, using my love for her, to break me down, to strip away the last vestiges of my resistance. And damn it all to hell, he was going to be succeed, unless...
I began to unbutton my shirt, my hands fumbling, fingers as clumsy as they've ever been. It was happening! But with slow, almost reluctant movements. His hot gaze didn’t leave mine. Each button undone felt like surrendering another piece of myself. Then I begin to undo the belt of my trousers and jeans to slowly sliding them off to reveal the hidden area inside the jeans I was wearing. I hesitated as the final one, looking at him from under my shoulder to gauge his reaction from behind me, and noticed his gaze burning into me, the hunger there was just like the look when we hunting and just noticed the most delicious target
He gasped, a low, guttural sound. My ass, tight and muscular, now gleamed under the lights. And in that exact instant, his face morphed from amusement to stark hunger. I froze, eyes locked in the mirror. The image before me, an image of shame, confusion and maybe anticipation, shattered the reflection that is me, an image of strength and control. It has vanished since this young man entered my home. I knew, instinctively, exactly what this mean now.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of my back. His touch, soft yet charged with an almost electric intensity. It had never felt like this when the kid touches my palm just minutes ago. It made my back tingle. I swallowed. I never want my back tingled by any kid. Let alone by my daughters soon-to-be husband like this. What on earth will become of me at this rate? What kind of hell is Lily going to drop me to? How did everything shift this way around after Lily brought him home for Christmas for once after years being away studying at campus college far far from home. The mirror reflected my shame, my nakedness, my utter surrender. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for what came next. The violation, the degradation, the… the appreciation.
Then.
A hot, wet sensation. A tongue. Licking. Probing. My eyes snapped open, the image in the mirror sending a jolt of pure shock through me. Liam’s head was buried between my legs, his tongue lapping at my hole, making it glisten in the light. My ass, tight and muscular, now a canvas for his ministrations.
“Fuck…” I gasped, the word a strangled mix of surprise and… something else. Something I couldn’t, wouldn’t name. My hands gripped the edge of the dresser, knuckles white. My body, still humming from his earlier assault, responded with a traitorous throb of arousal.
“So tight, Daddy,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my skin. “Even tighter than Lily’s. And so much hotter.” His tongue delved deeper, probing, exploring, sending shivers of unfamiliar pleasure through me. He nipped at my sensitive flesh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. “You taste so good, too. Better than any of those other muscle-bound daddies I’ve broken.”
Other daddies? The thought sent a wave of nausea through me. This wasn’t a game to him. It was a conquest. A collection. And I was just another trophy. But another wave of pleasure that he bring about is stronger, it was swallowing me in a very new and foreign manner.
His hand snaked around, gripping my cheek, spreading it wide, exposing me further. The air on my sensitive flesh sent another shiver through me, this one edged with a raw, electric excitement. He groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin, as his tongue worked faster, harder, drawing a whimper from deep within me. A spank, sharp and stinging, against my ass, followed by another, and another. The pain, strangely, intensified the pleasure, the humiliation feeding the unwelcome arousal.
“You like that, don’t you, Daddy?” he whispered, his voice thick with amusement. “Being used? Being dominated? Just like your little princess.” His words were meant to wound, to degrade. But they also… ignited something within me, a dark, forbidden flame.
My breath came in ragged gasps, my body arching involuntarily against his mouth. I wanted to tell him to stop, to push him away, but the words wouldn’t come. My own hands, traitorous, moved to grip the dresser tighter, anchoring myself against the onslaught of sensations.
“You’re such a good little whore, Daddy,” he murmured, his tongue flicking against my hole, drawing another whimper from my lips. “Just like Lily. Just like all the others.” He sucked hard, drawing a strangled cry from my throat. “You’re going to learn so much from me, Daddy. You’re going to learn how to please. How to obey.”
He continued his assault, his tongue and teeth working in perfect harmony, building a crescendo of sensations that threatened to shatter my carefully constructed world. The shame was still there, raw and burning. But now, intertwined with it, was something else. Something dangerous. Something… exhilarating. And for the first time since this nightmare began, a terrifying thought crept into my mind: What if I like this?
His tongue, hot and insistent, moved from my asshole to the crease of my ass cheeks, expertly tracing the line between my flesh. He didn’t just lick; he worked me, his tongue a skilled tool sculpting my ass into something… new. Something shamed and broken. Something… vulnerable.
The mirror reflected the scene: my broad, muscular back, bent over, my ass cheeks spread wide, glistening with sweat and saliva. My reflection was a stranger, a caricature of the man I once was. Strong, powerful Chris, reduced to this… this pathetic display. And yet…
A low moan escaped my lips, a sound of both protest and… pleasure. The pleasure was horrifying, a betrayal of everything I stood for. But it was there, undeniable, a wave washing over me as his tongue found the tightest part of my ass, circling, teasing, probing. Liam’s hands were everywhere now – gripping my hips, squeezing my ass cheeks tighter, coaxing them apart, making me even more exposed. It was so degrading but there was another side to this, a pleasure that I didn't know existed. It sent shivers all across my body. My heart beats faster than ever.
He pressed his face against my ass, his breath hot on my skin. "Your little princess's pussy isn't even this tight," he whispered, his voice thick with a cruel satisfaction. "But I'll make yours one, Daddy. I'll make your ass a fucking pussy." His words were brutal, yet the way he said them, the confident way, made my body respond despite my better judgment.
His tongue found a new rhythm, a rhythmic caress that pushed me past the point of shame. It wasn't just physical pleasure; it was the shattering of my masculinity, the complete and utter breaking of my will. Each lick was a violation, a degradation, but also… an awakening. He was turning my ass into something new, something humiliating, but something that brought a unique pleasure I never knew existed.
My legs trembled, then buckled. I braced myself against the wall, but the strength drained out of me. The intense sensation – the heat, the pressure, the utter loss of control – was overwhelming. The pleasure was a sharp, searing pain. I was about to fall completely but my arms kept me from falling.
He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. His tongue continued its relentless assault, his hands continuing their ministrations, my body now shaking uncontrollably. My legs went weak, and I had to let myself slump against the dresser, my whole body shaking with waves of pleasure that were as terrifying as they were intense. The mirror showed it all, a testament to my utter defeat, my humiliating submission. And yet… and yet, I couldn’t – wouldn’t – bring myself to stop him.
Finally, Liam pulled away, his tongue leaving a trail of glistening moisture on my ass. He was breathing hard, his face flushed with exertion, satisfaction etched on every feature. He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Tired, Daddy?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. I could only manage a weak nod, my body still trembling with the lingering aftershocks of his ministrations. My legs were still shaking, my body trembling with the lingering aftershocks of his assault. I was utterly spent, my strength broken. He left me there, panting, slumped against the wall, my ass throbbing and aching, a testament to his mastery. A strange mixture of exhaustion and arousal left me drained but strangely…content.
"Good," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because I'm not. And you wouldn’t want to suffer now, would you, Daddy? Not on your first time getting that cherry popped. Unless…" He paused, his eyes lingering on my trembling form, “You’d prefer I just rip it open?”
The threat was crystal clear. A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn't even scream. "N-no," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. "I’ll… I’ll get the gel.”
He smirked, his eyes glinting. “That’s a good boy. Now hurry up. Time’s wasting.” He stood up, his slender form tall and imposing above me. I managed to pull myself to my feet, my legs unsteady.
The gel tube is getting heavier and more as I get closer to him. I tried to ignore the burning shame. My mind is clouded by the mixed feelings of humiliation, degradation, pain, and fear but this was just the start. The sheer force of this experience was completely new to me. I have never felt like this before. My mind is a mess.
Liam directed me to the sofa. “Lie down,” he commanded, his voice laced with impatience. “Legs high. On your back. And make yourself inviting, Daddy. This is going to be fun.”
With shaking hands, I obeyed. The position was both humiliating and oddly… alluring. I had to pull my legs up to my chest with my hands and hug my legs tightly, creating an inviting hollow in my lower back. I lay on my back. I tried to make myself as inviting as possible as possible according to his orders, my body betraying me with its involuntary tremors and shuddering breaths. A mixture of fear, shame, and expectation that he would start soon filled my mind. I was a complete mess, and I just wanted to get this over with. My mind has been so messed up to the point of being broken.
I watched, mesmerized and horrified, as Liam took the tube of lube from my trembling hand. He squeezed a generous amount onto his palm, the clear gel glistening under the light. Then, with slow, deliberate strokes, he began to lubricate his cock. The sight of that monstrous length, slick and shining, sent a shiver down my spine. He was a predator, preparing his weapon, and I was his prey.
My own strength, my carefully cultivated masculinity, felt like a pathetic illusion. Here I lay, exposed and vulnerable, while this… boy… prepared to violate me. My muscles, usually a source of pride, now felt useless, heavy. My hands clenched into fists, the knuckles white against the dark fabric of the sofa.
He finished lubing himself, his eyes meeting mine, a predatory gleam in their depths. Then, he picked up the near-empty tube, and without a word, inserted the nozzle directly into my ass. I flinched, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. He squeezed hard, a large amount of gel squirting into me, the cold, slick sensation sending another shiver through my body. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't affectionate. It was… efficient. Brutal. Like prepping livestock for slaughter. He clearly didn't want to ruin the "first impression" of popping my cherry, but there was no tenderness, no respect in his actions. Just a cold, calculated pragmatism.
He tossed the empty tube aside, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Then, he leaned over me, his shadow falling across my body. He positioned himself between my spread legs, his massive cock, slick with lube, hovering just above my hole.
He didn't enter me immediately. Instead, he rubbed the head of his cock against my ass, the slick, smooth surface a stark contrast to the rough calluses of my hands. He teased, he tormented, drawing whimpers of both fear and anticipation from my lips. His slender frame seemed to radiate a dark, dangerous power, while my own powerful body felt like a broken toy, awaiting his pleasure.
He smirked, his eyes burning into mine. "Ready, Daddy?" he whispered, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. "Let's see how well you take it." And with that, he began to push, slowly, inexorably, into my waiting hole.
The cold slickness of the gel was a strange, alien feeling. It squirmed within me, coating my insides, a prelude to the violation I knew was coming. I could feel it pooling, gathering around my entrance, a slippery welcome for the monstrous intrusion that awaited. My muscles clenched involuntarily, a futile attempt to resist the inevitable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating silence.
Liam’s eyes, dark and intense, held mine captive. I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to. He wanted me to see this, to witness my own degradation. He wanted me to understand the power he held over me.
I watched, horrified and fascinated, as the head of his cock pressed against my entrance. It was impossibly large, the flared crown a dark, glistening promise of pain and pleasure. It stretched me, distorting my flesh, the pressure building, intensifying.
“Look at me, Daddy,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “Watch as I take you. Watch as I break you.”
My breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. The pressure increased, a burning, stretching sensation that sent ripples of pain and a strange, unwelcome flicker of excitement through me. My muscles clenched tighter, fighting against the invasion, but it was a losing battle.
He pushed harder, the head of his cock forcing its way past the tight ring of my muscle, the resistance palpable. I cried out, a strangled moan of pain and surprise, my body arching involuntarily. The gel, now warm and slick, did little to ease the burning, stretching sensation.He paused, his eyes locked on mine, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He was savoring this, relishing my pain, my humiliation. Then, with a final, decisive push, he breached the last of my defenses. The head of his cock popped past my tight ring of muscle, sinking deep inside me.
A wave of intense, searing pain shot through me, followed by a strange, hollow ache. I gasped, my body convulsing around him. He was inside me now, a part of me, violating me, owning me. This was it. My cherry was popped. My masculinity shattered. My world… irrevocably changed. He’d taken something from me, something precious, something I could never get back. And in his eyes, I saw a flicker of triumph, a predatory gleam of satisfaction. He had conquered me.
"Fuck, you're tight, Daddy," Liam grunted, the words a mix of admiration and contempt. He began to push further, his cock head, a blunt, forceful invader, stretching my ass, claiming it as his own. I bucked against him, the pain intense, a searing brand against my insides. “Just relax, Daddy,” he mocked, his voice a low growl. “You’ll get used to it. Just like your little princess did.”
My insides clenched around him, the slick gel offering little solace against the relentless invasion. He pushed deeper, inch by agonizing inch, his cock head a battering ram against the fleshy walls of my ass. I cried out, a strangled mix of pain and a horrifying, unwelcome pleasure. My body was betraying me, responding to the violation, the stretching, the sheer size of him.
"You like this, don’t you?" he sneered. "Being stretched open? Being filled up? You're no different from any of the other strong men I've broken. All muscle and no backbone."
Each thrust was a new assault, a deeper exploration of my unwilling body. My ass stretched, burned, ached, accommodating his impossible size. He was relentless, his hips pistoning against mine, his cock a relentless force claiming its territory.
"Remember how I described I fucked your daughter like this?" he whispered, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. His words sent a jolt of white-hot shame through me, yet intensified the strange, forbidden pleasure that was coiling in my gut.
Finally, with a groan of exertion, he pushed his entire length inside me. I cried out again, my body convulsed, stretched to its absolute limit. His cock filled me completely, a searing, stretching presence that consumed me. He held himself in this position, completely still, allowing every cell of me to come to know his thick, long cock.
My ass, once a symbol of my strength, now a vessel for his pleasure, his conquest. He was inside me, completely, utterly. And for a horrifying, exhilarating moment, I felt… full.
“There you go, Daddy,” he whispered, his voice laced with triumph. “Nice muscled pussy for a cock like me!"
Liam held himself still within me, his cock buried deep inside my ass. He was letting me adjust, letting the burning, stretching sensation fade into a dull ache. I could feel the weight of him, the heat of him, the undeniable presence of him inside me. He waited, patiently, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. My own breath came in ragged gasps, my body still trembling from the initial intrusion.
Then, he began to move. Slowly at first, tentative pushes that reawakened the stretching, burning sensation. "See? Not so bad, is it, Daddy?" he murmured, his voice close to my ear. "You're taking it like a champ. Just like Lily. Though hers bounces better, unlike your flat, flabby excuse for a muscle-ass.”
The insult, crude and demeaning, stung, but the sting was quickly overtaken by the rising tide of pleasure. With each thrust, the pleasure intensified, a raw, visceral sensation that spread through my body. His rhythm increased, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder, more insistent.
My massive tits, usually a source of pride, now jiggled pathetically with each thrust, a testament to my humiliation. My thick, muscular legs, bent at the knees, pulled towards my shoulders, framing his slender hips as he pounded into me. I could see his face, contorted with a mixture of lust and contempt, as he used my body, claimed it as his own. His hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, guiding my movements, controlling my pleasure. I didn't really care if my face expresses anything lewd or pathetic to Liam. My mind is being consumed by the intense feelings from all those friction he causes inside my ass, my eyes sometimes rolls back to white
"Fuck, you're a tight one, Daddy," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "So much tighter than your daughter. All those muscles, and you still can't handle a real man." He slapped my ass hard, the sound echoing in the room. "Such a good little whore for my cock. Just like her. A family of sluts."
My body responded with involuntary spasms, each thrust of his cock sending waves of pleasure through me. My ass, plump and muscled, quivered with each impact, the friction building, intensifying. My breath came in ragged gasps, my moans echoing his grunts and curses. He was relentless, his pace increasing, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder, more brutal.
"Who's your daddy now, old man?" he snarled, his voice thick with triumph. "Who's fucking who?"
He pounded into me, his cock a piston of flesh driving me closer and closer to the edge. I was lost in the sensations, the shame and the pleasure intertwined, a dizzying, intoxicating cocktail. I whimpered and bucked against him, my body on fire.
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "You like being my little whore, don't you, Daddy?" he whispered. "You like taking my cock, just like your slut of a daughter. You like being used, being dominated."
His words were poison, yet they ignited a fire within me, a dark, forbidden flame that burned away the last vestiges of my resistance. I was his. Body and soul. And in that moment of utter surrender, I found a terrifying, exhilarating release.
My body shuddered, the aftershocks of that terrifying, exhilarating release still coursing through me. Liam’s cock, still buried deep inside me, pulsed with a rhythm that mirrored my own racing heart. The shame was still there, a burning brand against my soul, but it was tangled with something else… something I couldn't name, something I didn't want to name.
He pulled out slowly, deliberately, the suction a surprising and intense sensation. My ass muscles clenched, trying to hold onto the feeling, the fullness, the invasion. My body ached with a strange mixture of exhaustion and arousal. He watched me, his eyes dark with a mixture of lust and contempt.
“Well, Daddy?” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “What do you think? Am I good enough for your little princess now?” He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “Or maybe… I’m better?”
His words were meant to humiliate, but they held a strange power over me. I looked at him, at his slender frame dominating my massive form, at the smug satisfaction on his face. I couldn’t deny the truth of what he’d done. He'd broken me. He'd conquered me. And in that breaking, that conquest, I’d discovered something unexpected, something terrifyingly pleasurable.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of my ass. “You’re so much tighter than your Lily, Daddy,” he whispered. “So much more… responsive.” His fingers traced the rim of my hole, the lingering warmth of his cock still visible within it.
His touch sent another wave of shivers through me. This was new. The humiliation was certainly there, and very intense, but this level of pure lust he was bringing to me, I've never felt it before. It was a shocking awakening to a side of myself I never wanted to acknowledge.
He leaned in, pressing his lips against my ass. “So much for that old-fashioned masculinity of yours,” he whispered, his lips moving against me, his tongue making my cheeks swell. “I’ve made your ass into a pussy. And now, Daddy... I'm going to fuck you until you can't feel anymore."
"Turn over, Daddy," Liam commanded, his voice laced with a cruel amusement. He didn't need to say it twice. My body, still buzzing from the aftermath of his previous assault, obeyed without question. I dropped to all fours on the floor, my massive torso and thighs creating a dramatic curve. The muscles of my back, usually a source of pride, now felt heavy, useless, just another part of the landscape to be conquered.
Liam knelt behind me, his hands finding purchase on my back, using my powerful frame as leverage to elevate his hips. The angle of penetration shifted, becoming higher, more aggressive. From this position, he had a perfect view – a full, unrestricted view – of my ass. My muscles were tensed and firm, the tight curve of my back, the prominent swell of my ass cheeks, on full display for him. Even my tits, usually a source of confidence, now felt like an absurd contrast to my humiliating position. He’d made a show of my strength. He used it.
My hole, despite the recent violation, remained stubbornly closed, not gapped despite the previous brutal intrusion of his cock. My body, while responding to the pleasure his previous penetration gave me, still retained a measure of resistance. It was a silent defiance, a last stand against the utter humiliation.
Liam grunted, his cock pressing against my entrance. It felt tight, even more intense than before, like a thick spear against my closed flesh. “Still playing coy, Daddy?” he sneered, the words punctuated by the sharp slap of his hand against my ass. “Let’s see how much of that 'old-fashioned masculinity' you have left.” He pressed harder, pushing, stretching, the pressure intense against my closed ring of muscle.
My body trembled as he pushed. My muscles bunched, resisting the invasion, but his insistent pressure forced me to relax. A slap landed on my ass. I groaned. I was starting to surrender. He was winning. My body is about to give way. And it will all be over soon.
He pushed harder, his massive cock pressing relentlessly against my tight ass. The pressure was intense, a burning, stretching sensation that sent shivers down my spine. My big, thick muscles bunched, resisting the invasion, but his relentless assault was wearing me down. Each push was a test of wills, a battle between his brute force and my stubborn resistance. My big, powerful thighs strained under my weight, my big, muscular back aching from his grip. My big, firm tits bounced with each movement, a vulgar counterpoint to my humiliating position.
“Almost there, Daddy,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “Just a little more.” His words were a mixture of encouragement and cruelty, a calculated torment designed to break my resolve. Another slap landed on my big, round ass. My body bucked involuntarily, and I gasped.
With a final, forceful thrust, he broke through my resistance. His enormous cock head stretched me wide, forcing its way inside my tight ass. A gasp escaped my lips as intense pain shot through me, sharp and searing but quickly fading into a dull ache as his cock filled me completely. He pushed himself deeper into my big ass.
"Ah, there we go,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. "That's it, Daddy. Let me have you. Let me fill you with my cock.” His hips began to move, slow at first, then faster, harder, his cock driving deep inside me. His hands cupped my big, firm tits.
His cock stretched me, filling me to capacity. My big ass quivered with each thrust, the friction building into an intense, burning sensation. My big, thick muscles contracted around him. I couldn't help but whimper, every thrust of his cock sending waves of pleasure through my big body. My eyes rolled back in my head, my body shaking uncontrollably as I lost myself in the intoxicating combination of pain and pleasure. He was filling me, possessing me, breaking me. I was his. Entirely his. And in that moment of utter surrender, my big body yielded to his relentless assault. He was the master, I was his submissive slave. And I was... surprisingly… enjoying it.
He shifted his weight, his hips settling into a rhythm. He was riding me now, his cock buried deep inside my ass, his movements mimicking the rough-and-tumble ride of a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Each thrust was a brutal assault, a deep, invasive violation, yet it was a violation that my body was strangely responding to. My big, muscular ass clenched around him, trying to hold him, trying to contain the intense, burning pleasure.
His hands, strong and insistent, gripped my hips, controlling my movements, pushing me further into the experience. He was using my big, powerful body, my strength, my very essence, to fuel his own pleasure, twisting my strength into submission. My big tits bounced with each thrust, a ridiculous counterpoint to my humiliation. The muscles of my back strained with each thrust.
“Hold on tight, Daddy,” he grunted, his voice thick with exertion, with lust. “This ride’s gonna be a wild one.” He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. His words were a mixture of taunt and encouragement, a calculated torment meant to break me completely. His cock drove deeper with each thrust.
My big body bucked involuntarily, my ass muscles contracting around his cock with every powerful thrust, every impact leaving me wanting more. Each thrust, a primal violation, was also an overwhelming, intense pleasure. My breath came in ragged gasps, my moans echoing in the room. My eyes rolled back in my head, my vision blurring as I lost myself in the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure, the physical exertion and his relentless control over my body. My big, muscular thighs trembled, my whole body on fire, surrendering to his dominance. I was his mount, his toy, his possession. And in that moment, I didn't just want him to continue, I was begging for it. This was more than just sex; this was a complete and utter destruction of my self and I found myself strangely excited about it. The cowboy was riding me hard, and I was loving every brutal moment.
From the living room floor, where his cock had first broken me, we moved to the kitchen table, the slick residue of our coupling staining the cool, hard surface. My big, muscular body, still humming with pleasure, obeyed his every command. He fucked me hard there, my ass spread wide across the smooth granite, his hips pounding against mine as the scent of sex filled the air. Then, he had me bent over the kitchen counter, my big ass cheeks parted, offering myself up. He pounded me there too.
Next, it was the master bedroom. He had me on the bed, my big body stretched out, my ass lifted high, as he rode me from behind. My big tits jiggled with the force of his thrusts. Then, I was on my hands and knees on the rug, his cock burying itself deep as he ground himself against my big muscles. My big ass bounced against his groin with every thrust. The smell of sex, of sweat and cum, hung heavy in the air, a testament to our relentless coupling.
In the bathroom, it was different. The cool tiles against my skin. He had me spread-eagled across the bathtub, my ass slick with his cum, as he fucked me again and again. The scene was wild, but the feeling was equally thrilling and satisfying. The slippery surface made it easier for his cock to slide inside and out of my ass.
He made me suck him in the shower, the hot water washing away the residue of our passion, while his cock was filling my mouth. He even made me deepthroat him in the hallway, his cock a throbbing presence against the back of my throat. He ate my ass in front of the mirror in the hallway, my big body shaking with each kick from his tounge, each touch.
We ended up in the garage next. The smell of oil and gasoline couldn’t mask the potent aroma of sex that clung to us. He had me bent over the hood of my old Mustang, my big ass spread wide, his cock slamming into me with each powerful thrust. The hard metal was cold against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body. The rhythmic thud of his hips against my ass echoed in the confined space. He grunted with each thrust, cursing me under his breath, his words a mixture of cruelty and pleasure. My muscles ached, but my body, now thoroughly broken, responded with a strange mixture of pain and pleasure to each penetration.
From there, it was onto the car itself. He had me straddling the front seat, my big legs wrapping around his waist as he pounded into me. The leather was slick with our sweat, and my big body, still aching, moved with each thrust, the movement almost violent. The car swayed slightly with the force of his movements. My big tits pressed against the steering wheel. The confined space intensified the experience, making it all the more raw and visceral. His breath hitched in my ear with every thrust, and he moaned my name as the pleasure built up inside us.
He pulled out briefly, then drove his cock deep into me again, and continued for several minutes. The entire car was drenched with our cum.
By now, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the garage floor. A glance at the clock showed it was nearing six. My wife and daughter would be home soon. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through me, but it was a panic intertwined with a strange sense of excitement. We were running out of time, and that only made the urgency of the moment, the raw intensity of our coupling, even greater. He pulled out one last time, and I moved to the living room, to continue on our couch. I knew that we couldn't continue this but I found myself missing him already. The thrill was gone, replaced by longing and an ache that even he couldn't satisfy.
The last rays of sun had disappeared, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple. A sense of urgency, a mixture of fear and exhilaration, shot through me. We had to stop. Lily and Ethel would be home any minute. Six hours. Six hours of relentless fucking. Six hours of degradation, humiliation, and a terrifying, exhilarating pleasure I never knew existed.
Liam’s cock, still buried deep inside me, pulsed with a rhythm that mirrored my own racing heart. He pounded into me one last time, his movements hard and fast, a desperate attempt to squeeze every last drop of pleasure before we had to end. He grunted, his body straining with the effort, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I too moaned, my big body bucking uncontrollably beneath him.
With a final, shuddering thrust, he came, a thick, hot torrent of cum exploding deep inside me, filling me to overflowing. He held himself there for a moment, his cock still throbbing within me, before slowly pulling out, leaving a trail of sticky residue on my big, firm ass. My muscles clenched, trying to hold onto the lingering sensation, but he was already pulling away.
He collapsed onto the floor, his lean body a stark contrast to my own powerful frame. His chest heaved, his face flushed, his eyes half-closed in a state of blissful exhaustion. I too collapsed, my big, muscular body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. My big ass, my big tits, my whole body was covered in sweat and cum.
Five loads. Five times, he’d filled me with his seed. Five times, he'd broken me, conquered me, and left me breathless with a combination of pleasure and shame.
We had to clean up. Quickly. I wiped myself down with a towel, trying to mask the evidence of our coupling, trying to restore a semblance of order to my body and the surroundings before my wife and daughter returned. Liam was weaker than me, but he looked more energetic than I do now. He managed to clean himself, then helped me clean up, his fingers lingering on my big ass, my big tits, his touches a mixture of apology and satisfaction. The smell of sex clung to us, to the furniture, to the air itself, a lingering testament to our transgression.
We were ready. We'd managed to contain the evidence as much as possible, but I could only hope they wouldn't notice the subtle signs of our wild coupling. We tried our best to hide the signs of our encounter before Lily and Ethel returned from their shopping trip. The garage is the worst affected, along with the car. The others we could manage to clean up, albeit we ran out of time to clean our own body properly.
The door swung open, and Lily and Ethel burst in, chattering about their day – the latest holiday fashions, Ethel's new face cream, Lily's excitement about the upcoming family gathering. Their voices, bright and cheerful, were a stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung in the air, thick with the lingering scent of sex. Six hours. Six hours of relentless fucking. The memory of Liam’s cock deep inside me, the taste of his cum, was still vivid, a phantom limb sensation that ached with both pleasure and shame.
Lily launched into a description of a particularly hideous sweater she’d seen, while Ethel detailed the ingredients of her new anti-aging serum. I managed a weak smile, a pathetic attempt at normalcy. My hole ached, a dull, throbbing reminder of Liam’s conquest. I could still taste his cum in my mouth, his scent clinging to my skin. My big ass felt sore, and my legs were still weak.
“Dad, you’re awfully quiet,” Lily noted, her brow furrowed with concern. “Something wrong?”
“Just… tired,” I mumbled, my voice raspy from disuse. The irony was not lost on me; I was bone-tired, and my muscles ached, but it wasn’t from any physical exertion my normal lifestyle would bring.
Ethel, ever observant, noticed the lingering scent of sex. Her keen nose caught the subtle change in the air. She gave me a searching look. “Did you have a… visitor?” she asked, her voice laced with a knowing, almost smug curiosity.
I remained silent. What could I even say? I couldn’t tell them about the hours of uninhibited sex, my own humiliating surrender to Liam’s dominance, the sheer size and intensity of it all. I could still smell Liam’s cum on my fingers, my cheeks, and other places. The thought of explaining my ordeal made me want to vomit.
Liam, ever the provocateur, leaned closer to me, his hand briefly brushing my thigh. “Chris had a bit of a... productive afternoon,” he murmured, his voice a low purr that would have been charming if it wasn't so deliberately taunting. He winked at Lily and Ethel.
Lily, oblivious, simply smiled. “Well, I’m glad you had a good day, Dad,” she said, launching into another description of her shopping adventures, her tone so cheerfully innocent, it was almost unbearable.
The blatant disregard for the truth, the effortless lie, hung heavy in the air, a bitter contrast to the lingering ache between my legs. The irony of it – my quietude, my body betraying me with its subtle signs of our coupling, my daughter's blissful ignorance – was a cruel joke, the punchline to a story that I could never tell.
A dryness scraped at my throat. Thirst clawed me awake, a sharp, insistent demand in the dead of night. I stumbled downstairs, my legs stiff from the previous day's… exertions. The house was quiet, save for the low murmur of voices coming from Lily's room. Curiosity, a dangerous thing, pulled me closer.
I paused outside her door, my hand hovering over the knob. Then, a sound – a sharp slap, followed by a gasp – broke through the quiet. My blood ran cold. It was Lily. Lily’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air, interspersed with breathless moans and the heavy thudding of bodies moving together.
It wasn't the sounds of passionate lovemaking. It was… something else entirely. Something controlled, something… dominant. Lily was in charge. This wasn't a submissive Lily. She was giving orders.
"Harder," she commanded, her voice husky with desire. "Yes, like that. Fuck me harder. Just like you did him, you pathetic little thing."
A groan, Liam’s voice this time, tinged with both pleasure and fear. The sounds were brutal, humiliating, yet strangely… familiar. They were the sounds of power, of control, and it wasn't Liam holding the reins.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Lily? She’d orchestrated this. This wasn't some spontaneous encounter. This wasn't even a conquest by Liam. The whole thing was planned. She’d used Liam as a tool. My daughter… she’d planned my humiliation.
I listened in horror, the realization dawning with agonizing slowness. Lily's words painted a chilling picture. Liam’s weakness had been calculated, his dominance merely a facade carefully constructed to break me. Lily hadn't just wanted to test Liam; she wanted revenge, and me. She used me as a means to get Liam. To test the man who wants to become her husband.
Another slap, this one crisper, more precise, followed by a long, drawn-out moan from Liam. He was not in charge. He was merely a tool.
My thirst had vanished, replaced by a nauseating emptiness, a sickening realization that the shame I felt was nothing compared to Lily's calculated cruelty. My daughter, the girl I'd cherished and protected, had become a predator, a puppet master who'd manipulated and humiliated her own father. And as I stared into the darkness, I understood: the greatest betrayal wasn’t Liam’s conquest; it was Lily’s. The cruelest blow, the final insult, was that I had been the one who played a part in it all.
