Daddy's Dirty Boss

“Such pretty little fingers against my cock,” he told me, and I was so pleased he liked them.

I wasn’t expecting it when he tugged my grip away and took another step forward. My eyes shot up to his and questioned, but his answer was purely a dirty grunt as he got himself into position.

And then it made sense. He pulled me closer by my shoulders and spun me around enough on the dining table, flat on my back. And then further. Far enough that my head lolled back over the side, and he stepped on up.

He pressed himself up against me. I could smell his flesh and feel the heat from him, and there were his balls, right by my nose. I wanted to nudge them, to taste them, but he shifted again. I was nervous afresh as he soothed me with a shhh and hooked his fingers in the corners of my lips.

“I love to use my little slut’s mouths,” he said, and I swallowed. “I’m going to seriously fucking love using yours.”

He didn’t hold back, stretching my mouth open wide and puffing out my cheeks, and it was such a weird feeling. So exposed, and open and naughty.

“Show me your tongue,” he said, and I felt so dirty as I pushed it out for him. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Nice and fucking wet for me.”

I couldn’t stop the spit building up. It was pooling in the back of my mouth as his fingers stretched and poked at me. He was trying me out, pressing on the back of my tongue and prodding to the back of my throat until I was retching up little gags. And he liked that. He really, really liked that.

“Take them down nice and deep,” he growled, and pushed them back harder. I really did gag this time, enough that my belly tightened. “That’s it,” he prompted. “That’s my good little throat slut.”

I wasn’t ready for the next time, or the time after that. He was fierce with his stretching and prodding, and my gagging was fierce to match.

My eyes started watering as my throat started gurgling, and with my head lolled so far back the tears went running down backwards, and so did my spit. It bubbled and retched everywhere and I felt so bad but I couldn’t stop it, he controlled everything.

I didn’t even realise my fingers were between my legs until he groaned and let out a stream of low curses.

“Beautiful little bitch,” he whispered. “Such a beautiful little slut for me. Rub that horny little clit and show me how much you fucking like it.”

So I did.

I rubbed myself like I was at home in my bed, still gagging and struggling to take the jabs of his fingers as they pushed right to the back of my mouth and spread me wide.

His balls were pressed to my forehead and his cock was stood proud above my face, and I liked that. I liked the heat from him, and the smell of him, and the grunts from him, and the way he was so brutal even for my very first time.

I liked how naughty he made me feel, and how much he pushed me, and how he really did seem to believe I was a pretty one.

I so badly wanted to be his pretty one. His good little girl. His dirty little slut.

All of it.

I wanted to be everything to him.

My clit was sparking, still wet from his spit, and my face was such a mess with my own that I could barely see him above me. I was squirming on the table top, and it made him grunt deep sharp grunts and mash those balls tighter against me.

“Now let’s give your throat the real fucking lesson,” he told me, and pulled his fingers free.

I’d barely grabbed a decent breath to recover before he pulled my head back even further and lined his cock up with my mouth. I knew what was coming, but it didn’t stop the whimper. Didn’t stop the nerves at the thought of trying to take him.

“Take a breath,” he grunted, and I did, just in time for him to push the head of his dick between my teeth.

He pushed hard against my tongue and kept on going, angling right the way to the back where I retched and spluttered, but still he kept on going.

“You can take it,” he told me. “Keep playing with that pretty little slit and swallow me deep.”

I tried. I tried my best to keep my fingers strumming, even though I was blowing spit through my nostrils as he kept on shunting.

“Feel the rhythm,” he growled, and with that he started. Back and forth, rocking on his hips and slamming right the way back, deeper and deeper to the back of my throat.