The phone call came before I was even awake. I answered the phone, eyes closed and without thinking. "Yes, Simon?"

"Who's Simon?"

"Dad," I said, sitting up in bed. "Hey, sorry. I thought-- never mind."

"He must be a tough boss," he said, thinking, I guess, that I worked for Simon. Which I supposed was true. "Are you around tonight? I know it's last minute, but I'm in DC for meetings this afternoon and tomorrow morning."

"Tonight," I repeated. I was picturing Eric's enormous cock sliding into my ass on the laptop screen, while hundreds of anonymous internet voyeurs cheered him on.

"If you have plans with Tracy, that's okay," he said quickly. "I can stay at a hotel. No big deal."

"No, no, it's fine," I told him. "She's out of town this week. You're welcome to stay."

We hung up. After I was showered and dressed, I sent Simon an email, explaining that my dad had come to visit, and that I'd be unavailable in the evening. I left open the possibility that I could carry out any requests during the day.

It was a busy day at work, and it was almost two in the afternoon before I realized I'd never heard back from Simon. Had I done something wrong, or disappointed or angered him, by taking off for an evening? Five o'clock rolled around, and still no email, no text. I left the office and drove back home.

At the house, I went through the refrigerator to see what the dinner options were. Dad's a red wine drinker, so I also took a nice bottle out of the rack and set it aside. Once I'd settled on a reasonably complete meal -- he always says he's happy with anything as long as someone else is doing the cooking -- I went to the bedroom and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and then checked the clock. It was almost six, so he'd be arriving soon. I stepped into the office to check my email. Nothing.

And then as I was about to close the computer, just as the doorbell rang, a new message came in from Simon. I clicked.

Get him to spank you tonight.

I closed the computer quickly, and went to answer the door. No fucking way, I thought, as I greeted my dad. I'd just tell Simon that was out of scope, off limits. Or I'd make something up, and make him believe me. Not even a consideration.

My dad's a big guy, much bigger than me. Growing up, I kept waiting for my growth spurt, assuming I'd end up being his size -- six three -- but I never came close. He'd put on weight the past few years, becoming more sedentary after a knee injury had laid him up for a few months, but he still seemed healthy, robust, with a kind face beneath thinning, close-cropped gray hair.

He sat at the bar in the kitchen and we talked while I cooked. He asked about Tracy and filled me in on my older brother, who lived in Los Angeles now with his wife, and my mom's various hobbies. We talked easily, had really always talked easily once I left home to go to college. Before that we hadn't been as close, partly because of the age gap -- he was almost forty when I was born -- and partly because I was a pain in the ass growing up.

The wine bottle was already halfway empty by the time we sat down to eat. The conversation was light -- baseball and travel, mostly. Somehow two hours passed, and Dad was ready to open another bottle by the time I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

I found a game on television, and we sat on the couch to watch, wine glasses in hand. Maybe it was being on the couch with him, or maybe it was the wine, but for the first time that evening I thought about Simon's email. I put it out of my mind again.

A rain delay made us change the channel. I finally settled on a sitcom, one I'd never seen before, just to have something on the television while we talked. A group of women were sitting together at dinner. I was only half-listening to the dialogue, but I heard this line clearly: I still can't believe that he spanked me. And then more banter, reaction from her friends -- indignation, mostly -- followed by some complicated plot to exact comical revenge.

"You never spanked me as a kid," I said. Just as an observation.

"That's true," said Dad. "I spanked Danny a few times, but your mother always hated it. So by the time you came around I gave up on it."

"I know," I said, "Danny used to tell me all the time." I was silent for a bit, not really paying attention to the show anymore. The wine was making my head very light and warm. "I'll tell you something," I started to say, and then suddenly I stopped.


"Nothing, forget it," I said quickly.

"Aw come on," Dad said. "It's just us, you can tell me." His words were a tiny bit slurred by this point.

Well, I thought, why not. "I kind of wanted you to spank me."

He laughed quietly at this. "I'm sure," he said.

"No, really. I always thought... I don't know, maybe you just didn't care as much about how I acted. Or else you would've done it to me, too." This wasn't quite true. I remembered Danny telling me about spankings, and about how lucky I was, and I remembered being curious -- had his pants been pulled down? "Besides," I added, "I figured it couldn't hurt that much anyway. You were never that much of a disciplinarian."

"Probably true," he said, after a moment. "It was never about hurting anyway. That wasn't the point."

"Right. What is the point, though? I guess... just to make it sting a little."

"Well, your mom..." And then he stopped, as if catching himself.

"Mom what?" Now I was intrigued. "Mom liked to be spanked."

"I shouldn't have said anything."

"Too late," I said. "Besides, it's just us, remember. You can tell me."

He laughed again. "Okay, all right. Just between us. Your mom did like it, back when we were younger. I was just going to say it isn't always about pain, or punishment. It's more like vulnerability, I guess. I guess it's supposed to be kind of... humiliating, maybe? Just because of the position you're in. Don't really need to spank too hard, as long as you teach the lesson."

"What position would you do it in?" I set down the wine glass. "I guess I just always figured you told Danny to bend over and swatted him."

"Oh, with Danny, yeah. "

"What about mom?"

He was blushing a little, but he kept talking. I wanted him to keep talking. "Over my lap, usually. Like this, on the couch. She'd, uh, put her head down at this end..."

"That's how I pictured it would be, if you ever spanked me," I said. "I imagined you making me lay across your lap. I guess you'd pull down my pants, maybe? Maybe not. Just how I pictured it."

Dad shifted a little on the couch. Was it possible that he was actually getting hard? "Well," he said quickly, "never did happen. Anyways..."

But I wasn't quite ready to change the subject. "Did you ever want to spank me?"

"Any time you acted up," he said, trying to make a joke of it. "Like now."

There was never going to be a better time. I got up and, before he knew what I was doing, climbed back down and laid across his lap. I could feel his dick through his pants, underneath my stomach. Not hard, but not completely soft either.

"Jesus, Jordan, what are you--"

"Aw, just give it a whack," I said. Kind of bratty, which was how I was feeling at that moment. "Am I in the right position, or should I scoot up a little?"

I could hear him breathing harder, trying to sound normal. "Uh, a little up I guess."

"Like this?" I moved foward, so that my ass was directly on top of his lap. His dick stiffed inside his pants. "Besides," I added, "I think it's a very spankable butt, isn't it? Nice and round, anyways."

He laid his hand on my ass, barely touching it. "This is... Jordan, get up."

"One smack," I said. "I bet it won't even hurt."

"Jordan." Beneath me, I could feel his dick growing soft again.

I sighed. At least I had the wine as an excuse. "Fine," I said, and then I heard a loud whack as Dad's hand came down on the right cheek, stinging immediately. The shorts I was wearing were too thin to offer much protection, and I yelled involuntarily.

The next one was harder, his big hand coming down across both cheeks. I bit my lip and didn't yell, realizing that I'd pushed him too far. He was just angry, now.

Again he struck me, and again I didn't make a sound. I put my head down, trying not to tense up as I waited for the next blow. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Good," he said, and then he spanked me again. This time he let his hand rest on my ass for a moment, rubbing it where he had struck me. "Good," he repeated.

And then he pulled down my shorts.

I was too stunned to make a sound. I just let him push them down, just far enough to expose my ass completely. And suddenly everything seemed completely different. I felt far more vulnerable, and I also felt suddenly tiny, and young, stretched out like this over his much larger body. His dick, which had become completely soft earlier, was suddenly huge underneath me. I could feel his eyes on me, taking in the sight of my ass, naked and stinging from his hand. He put one palm over both cheeks. "Good boy," he said, and as if someone else was controlling me, I lifted my ass up very slightly, as if offering it to him, like a dog.

He slid one thick, meaty finger down the crack, barely touching me. I relaxed and let him do it. "Thank you, daddy," I said, and his dick jumped again. His finger slid all the way down, finally resting against my warm asshole.

"I know you're a good boy," he said, breathing harder. "But you need a few more. Do you know that, Jordan?"

"Yes," I said.

"Yes what?"

I swallowed. His finger was still against my asshole, and now it slid inside. "Yes daddy," I said. "I know you need to spank me more."

"Good boy," he said again.

He removed his finger, and my body tensed as I waited for his hand to come down again. But when it did, he wasn't as rough as before. And each time he spanked me, he ended by running his hand across my ass, letting his fingers travel up and down the crack, before raising his hand to strike me again. He also started spanking me between the cheeks, slapping my asshole itself, and by then I was lifting myself several inches off his lap whenever his hand left my skin. After the tenth slap, he reached around my face and put his thick middle finger inside my mouth, and I sucked it without thinking. He pulled it free gently, spread my ass with his other hand, and guided the wet finger all the way inside my hole.

I groaned and accepted his finger. He moved it in and out, gently fucking me with it at first, but then with more force, so that the palm of his hand was smacking my ass, over and over. And I let him do it, let my dad fuck me with his finger. I said "Yes daddy, yes, thank you," panting now like a dog. He reached beneath me with his other hand and grabbed my hard cock, and I practically squealed.

"My good boy," said Dad. "Are you going to cum, boy?"

I could barely speak. "Yes, yes..."

"You learned your lesson, didn't you?"

"Yes, daddy, god... yes..." while he pumped my cock and rammed my ass at the same time.

Just before I came, he pulled his finger free from my ass, and gave me one last, brutal spank, directly on my asshole, tugging my cock hard at the same time. And finally I exploded.

He didn't let go of my cock, milking it, letting my cum spray all over the sofa. My head was down as I came, so some of it even landed on my face. I wondered fleetingly if he wanted it on my face.

Eventually I collapsed on the couch, face down, unable to move. He ran his hands across my back and my ass, but gently. Finally he said my name, softly.

"Yes," I said.

"You okay?"

"Yes," I said. And then: "Yes, daddy."

"Good, I'm glad you're okay. You ready to clean up?"

I pushed myself up, suddenly embarrassed by how exposed I was. I stood up and pulled my shorts up. "Um, yeah," I said. "I guess I should."

He shook his head, and nodded at the sofa, which was splattered with thick cum. "I mean, are you ready to clean up the mess you made?"

I stared at him, not sure what he was asking. "Sure," I said. "I mean, I can go get..."

He shook his head again, more forcefully. "Down here, boy. You wanted to be a little dog, didn't you? That's what you looked like, with your butt up in the air like it was." He pointed at the sofa seat again. "So show me what a good dog you are, Jordan."

When I didn't move, he said, "And pull your pants back down. Now."

A jolt of electricity raced through me and I did as I was told. I stepped out of the shorts, and took off the shirt too. Then I kneeled in front of the sofa, beside Dad's legs, and started licking. Dad put one hand on the back of my head to guide me from spot to spot. When he told me I was a good boy, I could feel my ass heat up all over again. Finally it was done, and I'd gotten everything I could find.

"That's really good, Jordan," said Dad. "Just one more mess, okay? Then you can go to bed."

I looked around, but didn't see anything I had missed.

Dad laughed. Then he unzipped his pants, and took out his cock, already fully erect. It was uncut, which surprised me. Pre-cum dripped from the hole.

"This will be easy to clean up," he said, guiding me over so I was between his knees. "You'll make sure everything stays in your mouth, won't you? Won't you be a good boy and do that, Jordan?"

"Yes, daddy," I said.

He took my head in his big hands. "What are you going to do now, boy? Tell me."

"I'm going," I said, very slowly, "to suck daddy's dick, and clean up the mess, with my mouth."

"Good. Now do it," and he brought my head down. And I sucked, letting Dad fill my mouth with his hot, sweet dick.

Within seconds I had it all in my mouth, holding it there with his balls pressed against my skin. Showing him how good I was. If I was happy, yesterday, to show Eric that I could take his cock deeper than Tracy could ever take it, then right now I wanted more than anything to show Dad that I could suck him deeper and better than Mom ever could. I gripped the shaft and stroked him while I sucked, letting go now and then to take him deep, each time hearing him gasp as he felt the head slip past my throat.

I knew he wouldn't last, not after everything else. I took his cock out long enough to thank him again, and then to run my tongue along his massive balls. He quickly shoved his dick back into my mouth and pumped my face hard, and then his cum was everywhere in my mouth, and I swallowed and sucked at the same time, letting him drive it into me with terrible force, and building up a thick froth of semen that allowed him slide in and out of my throat with ease.

He sat back on the sofa, keeping my head in his groin. I swallowed everything in my mouth. And I stayed there between his knees for a long time, keeping his soft meat inside me.

Some endless time later he pushed me off. He stood up and then helped me up. "Such a good boy," he said, and patted my naked ass. He smiled. "I need to get some sleep. I won't wake you in the morning when I leave. But thanks for everything." And another smile.

"You're welcome, daddy." I couldn't stop saying it.

As he headed toward his bedroom, he said, "Oh, and I'll be back in a few weeks. I'll make sure I have a full load for you to suck out of me, Jordan. Does that sound good?"

"Yes, daddy," I said. And I meant it. It sounded perfect.

"Okay. Night, Jordan."


Before I went to bed, I checked my email one last time. There was another brief message from Simon.

Who's daddy's good little cocksucker?

I am, I said quietly. And then I went to bed.



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