Date: Thu, 18 Feb 2010 09:20:20 -0700
From: Tim Bosley <tim2none@hotmail.com>
Subject: Milkman 3

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
people or events is coincidental.  If graphic sexual material offends you,
please leave now.  Feedback is welcomed.

The next morning I awoke to the familiar smell of coffee and bacon.  I
looked at the clock, and saw that it was 9:30.  I had slept two hours
longer than usual.  The night before I had stayed awake for a long time
after the men were done with me, showering and washing my bedsheets.  Even
though I didn't get as much sleep as I normally do, I felt wonderful; as if
I'd woken from a long, deep sleep.  If it wasn't for the burning pain in my
asshole, I would have thought the events of the preceding night had
happened in a dream.

I was relieved that Mark would be at work by now.  He had been living with
my mom and me for five years now, and in one night everything I thought and
felt about him had changed.  I felt unsure of how to be around him now.

I limped awkwardly downstairs, my sore little butt reminding me with every
step of my humble role in this world.  I was wearing nothing but my boxers.
When I got to the kitchen, I was surprised to see that Mark was still
there, wearing a blue bathrobe and busying himself with his morning
routine.  He must have taken the day off.

He turned around when he heard me enter, his coffee mug in one hand, and
leaned casually against the counter.

"It's about time you got up," he said, "I've got a job for you."

He opened his robe and displayed to me his impressive erection.  I took a
few steps towards him, my eyes glued to his manhood.

"Tell me what your job is," he said to me in a fatherly tone.

"Is it to make you cum in my mouth?" I said bashfully.

"That's absolutely right," he answered with a grin, pleased with my
submission to his authority.  "Now show me what a good boy you can be."

As usual, I was eager to please this dominant man standing before me, and I
almost dropped to my knees and started sucking him right then without
another word.  But I was feeling playful that morning, and a bit defiant,
and I wanted to test my limits a bit.  So, like a child who wants to see
what he can get away with, I told him no.

"I don't want to," I said coyly.

He was taken off guard by my sudden change in behavior.

"What did you say to me," he said, his voice suddenly harsh.

"I don't want to do my job, Daddy.  Why don't you go masturbate if you're
horny."

This had the intended affect of enraging Mark.  He put his mug down and
delivered a heavy-handed blow to the side of my face.  I staggered
backwards and he came after me, knocking me down on my ass.  He held my
head securely by the hair and stood over me threateningly, his excited cock
pressing against my face.

"I told you to suck my fucking dick!" he shouted.  I'd never seen him so
angry.

"Make me!" I shot back at him, egging him on.

"You fucking brat," he snarled, "I'll make you."

He hit me again, even harder this time, on the other side of my face.  I
recoiled from his assault and gave into him.  I had learned exactly how
much of my bullshit Mark was prepared to put up with: none.

"Ok Daddy, I'm sorry!" I moaned, "I'll do what you want!  I'll suck your
dick!"

"Open up, bitch," he ordered, and I did.

He impaled my face with his rigid meat, and with a tight grip on my hair,
began to pump himself in and out of my young throat.  He was brutal, but I
understood that I deserved what I was getting.  I had incited his rage by
being a naughty boy, and now I had to accept the consequences.  I created
this lustful aggression and now it had nowhere to go but right down my
throat.

"I was gonna take it easy on you and just let you suck my cock nice and
leisurely," he said as he fucked my skull, "but now, because of your
behavior, I have to treat you like a whore.  Disobedient boys have to be
punished."

And as if to punctuate the word "punished", he rammed his dick in as far as
it would go, making me gag.  He pulled out and watched with pleasure while
I dry heaved on the kitchen floor.  When I had recovered, he told me to
suck his cock again.  This time I did not argue.

"See?" he said softly as I penitently slid my lips up and down his thick,
veiny shaft, "you do as I tell you and I won't have to hurt you."

"Yes Daddy," I said breathlessly, "I'm sorry for disobeying you."

"I don't want your apologies, boy," he said coldly as he watched me work.
"All I want from you is that 17 year old mouth milking my cock dry."

That was exactly what I intended to do.  I put everything I had into
blowing Mark, and he stood there moaning softly and drinking his coffee.
While he was not as big as the milkman, Mark was a sizable man.  He had
thrown shotput in college, but since then he stopped exercising and had put
on a bit of extra weight.  He was now about 50, a decade or so older than
my mom.

"Harder," he said to me.  "Suck it harder."

I increased my efforts, jerking him off at the same time that I slid his
meat in and out of my mouth.  He was done with his coffee now, and he had
his hands free to roam the parts of my hairless body that he could reach.
He liked to squeeze my chest and pinch my sensitive nipples, getting me to
twitch and squirm each time.  He knew I was ticklish, and he liked to make
me writhe.  Despite his manhandling, I continued servicing his rock hard
dick like a pro.

"Mm yeah, that's very good," he praised me.  "You're a very good
cocksucker, did you know that?"

I looked up at him lovingly and said, "Thank you, Daddy."

"Alright, I'm ready to cum now," he told me.  I sat back and opened my
mouth for him, as I had quickly learned that is what men expected from me.

"Oh, did you want me to blow my load in your mouth?" he asked.

I nodded and smiled.

"Well I wouldn't be a very good father if I let you have everything you
wanted," he said as he masturbated.  "I won't have a spoiled brat in this
house."

I was suddenly worried that I was not going to be granted my morning
cumshot; the one I had worked so hard for and that I craved like a drug.
Didn't he understand how badly I needed his pearly white gravy squirting
into my mouth?  Did he have no regard for my desperation?

Apparently, he didn't, because he picked up the dog's food dish and held it
under his cock.

"I think we'll let Daisy have this load," he smirked as I watched in
horror.

"Please Daddy," I begged, "I've learned my lesson!  I won't ever disobey
you again!  Please Daddy, please let me have your cum!"

I was still on my knees, clinging to his leg and practically sobbing.  He
ignored me completely and continued pleasuring himself.  Then, all the
muscles in his body tightened and his face contorted into an awful, twisted
grimace of ecstasy.  A deep, guttural groan resonated from deep down in his
chest and his dick began to spew thick, pasty ropes of Daddy cum.  As I
watched him ejaculate, I wished that I was the one causing him this
pleasure, that I was being granted his fatherly approval, and that I was at
the receiving end of this most manly gesture of sexual ownership.  Instead,
I had to watch as he fed all that to the dog.  Sitting there feeling
pathetic and worthless, it was clear that I was nothing but a toy for Mark
to play with; one that, at the moment, he no longer required.

When he was done emptying his contents into the silver bowl, he looked at
the pool of semen he had just created.

"Holy fuck," he said as he caught his breath, "that was a big fucking
load."  As if to make my torment worse, I could smell the pungent, musky
odor of his cum.  It was taunting me.  My disciplinarian put the dog dish
back on the floor and went upstairs.  As soon as he left the room, I
crawled over to the bowl and began to lick up the jizz that he had left for
Daisy.  As I slurped up my stepfather's sperm, I knew I had sunk to a new
low.  I was disgusted even myself, but I had no choice.  I was a full-blown
cum whore with no control over my addiction.