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He was my father I suppose, not by blood, but by marriage. I was unhappy at first, that mother would pick such a handsome man to taunt me with whilst she went to work and he would stay at home to write such things like novels and look after me, a child. But I would use such a thing to my advantage.
I had learnt a year prior how to use my body to attract the attention of the boys I may call peers and men I may call teachers using my pouty lips to my advantage as I would stare at my history teacher, suckling a pen between my lips. I would hope each time I would be asked to stay behind class, maybe be told I'm failing and they have a way to earn me some extra credit, or that I've been a bad boy and that someone needs to be taught a lesson. But each time I left disappointed.
There was my peers, but they were boys not men and a man is what I wanted, but I have been inclined to get on my knees for a couple of the bulkier jocks who were able to grab my hair in their fist and make me moan around them. The three times that happened I was left far to quickly with a whispered threat about telling anyone how easily they reached their high as they spilled down my throat. Unsatisfied I would agree in a sweet voice, pat their cheek and saunter off wishing the cock who inhabited my mouth prior would of been able to reach down my throat. Make me choke. Make my voice worn like a souvenir of the good job I did.
But at home when it was just me and father I would walk through his door smile through sultry lashes and crawl onto his lap, grazing my Palm over his crotch as if by mistake, and I would lace my hand in his and pull the blood red Lolly from my pocket and place the sucker between my lips. And I would feel his gaze on my mouth as I popped out the candy to give him a big kiss on his cheek and he would return the favour and then I would kiss his neck and lean my hand slightly nearer to my goal and he would return the favour with caution but I would just turn and smile as I sunk to my knees.
As this time I was not disappointed and he could make me choke and moan as he gripped and pulled my locks, and I would swallow every bit of him and after when my voice was worn, and I was left debauched, mother would ask what happened to my voice and I would say I was getting a cold. Because I knew that whatever happened next, daddy could never disappoint me.