A Daddy for Benito by Joe Satoria

4. HARRY

We knew what we were getting from this. He was getting a place to stay, and I was getting sex. He could leave at any moment, and I wouldn’t stop him. I wasn’t going to force him into a sexual relationship.

On the third floor of a flat block just outside the city centre, I had a nice place. There was a balcony with a small table and chairs, as well as an air-drying rack for clothes, and currently, it housed most of my underwear. I wanted to make sure I had everything clean for when he arrived, and I forgot to take them off before I went to the train station. They were the first thing I noticed as the front door opened up to an immediate view through the living room to the balcony doors.

“It’s bright,” Benito said. “I think I want to take a nap, then you can make me something to eat.” He turned to me, flashing me a wide smile.

“Oh, you’re demanding.” I shook my head. “You’re getting three spanks, remember?”

Benito’s hands were immediately at his shorts. “Over shorts? Or directly on skin?”

“First of all,” I said, looking him over. “You need to take your shoes off at the door.”

He shook his head. “I like my shoes. So, are you going to bend me over or—”

“I might hold back on that, withholding punishment, how does that sound?” I asked, watching his posture change. His buttoned his shorts and kicked off his shoes. “That’s better.”

He wore odd socks, one blue and the other grey. He hunched his shoulders and looked around lounge. “Are you going to show me around?”

“I thought you were going to bed.”

“I thought you were going to give me the terms.” His teeth sunk into the bottom lip. He stared, begging me to say something. The sass, the mischief, he wanted to get a rise. I would’ve been disappointed if he didn’t.

“The main term, or rule, is do what I say.” There was no real terms of rules, which meant I could add and take as I pleased.

He snickered.

“You’re doing well at that,” I said, cocking my head. I looked him up and down, and there was a lot of him to look at him. He’d followed my instruction well, even if he told himself he wasn’t going to. He’d taken his shoes off. This was all about getting what we both wanted. He wanted this just as much as me. “Now, shoes go by the door. You can put them neatly, beside mine.”

Brows raised with question; I was waiting for him to come closer. I was waiting for him to say those two words he’d said to me in the car, the magic of those words right now would’ve sent me rugby tackling him into the bedroom and out of his clothes faster than he could repeat it.

“And then will you show me around?”

He was trying to trade this off with something else. I nodded. “I’ll tell you where you can put your things.”

“Aren’t you going to unpack for me?” he asked. “You said you were going to choose what I wore, so I figured you’d want to see what I brought.”

“Yeah, I do,” I said, “so, I’ll watch you unpack.”

Benito bent to pick his shoes up. “Do you invite many people over?”

“Like this?” I asked. I had, before, but that wasn’t important for him to know. “No, I only invited you because I know you. Well, we’ve fucked, so we’re pretty connected with one another.”

“Oh, Daddy has a good memory,” he said, smirking. He walked passed me to the shoe rack by the front door. “Well, I don’t remember much, except you had a thick cock and you left me alone in a strange place.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. He was a fan of the theatrics.

“I left you a note,” I said, “and as I remember, it was your hotel room. Not a strange place.”

He scoffed. “Same thing. I’ve been to Manchester, once—twice. Ok, I’ve been a couple times, but it’s still a strange place.” Pouting and shaking his head slightly, he looked from me and then away. “I guess you’re like my real daddy, abandoning me.”

Pulling my tongue from the clenched position between my teeth, trying not to smile or bite at anything he was saying. Perhaps I didn’t know him as well as I thought, especially since my social media digging didn’t get far; it was surface level. And I didn’t know if he was making this up. I’d been with guys who would have entire backstories for characters and roles they played.

I approached him, stroking a hand down his cheek. He had a little stubble, and I wondered if he’d be shaving that. I wondered if perhaps he was hairy all over. It had been three months since our encounter, and I wasn’t sure if he had a hairy chest or what his hole or cock looked like. But I remembered the feeling. That was something my mind couldn’t let go of.

“Well,” I said, “unlike your daddy, I promise I’ll pull out.”

He immediately grabbed my arm. “Is that a rule?” he asked, staring into my eyes. His eyes were chestnut brown. Like looking into swirling pools of coffee. “Because if so—”

“Oh, I see the game you’re playing,” I said. “If I say it’s a rule to pull out, you want me to cum inside you.”

Benito’s jaw moved slightly, grinding his teeth and smirking. “I never said that. But if that’s what daddy wants.” His hand moved from my arm and grabbed my crotch once more. The erection he’d given me earlier had only just subsided, and suddenly it was back again, thickening in the warmth of his hands.

Slowly, I shook my head. “You don’t get to do that.”

“But you’re already excited, look at you.”

It was true. I was throbbing. “No,” I said, my weak attempt at grabbing his hand by the wrist to pull him away. “You earn this by following the rules. Right?”

“Wrong,” he chuckled. His grip was massaging me. “So, are you going to show me my room?”

“Our room,” I said.

Benito licked his tongue across his top teeth. “Well, whatever you want to call it.” I was unable to respond. He was touching me just where I needed to be touched, and he was pulling all my strings. “Or is this another rule? I have to get on my knees and beg you.”

Afraid of opening my mouth and letting out a moan. I wasn’t going to allow him to believe he was getting the better of me. At least not just yet. This was all play, and I knew better than to give it up, even if it had been a week since I’d came, and I could bust at a moment’s notice. “Yes,” I said, my hand up at his shoulder, pushing him down. “On your knees. If you’re hungry, I’m here to feed you.”

On his knees, Benito kept eye contact with me. His hands with an instinctive grasp. He pulled at the buckle, yanking a hand at my trousers. He pulled, all the way. I wasn’t wearing any underwear. He broke eye contact with me to look at my cock.

“Suck Daddy’s dick.”

His lips wrapped around the head of my cock. His eyes looking into mine. Tracing his tongue across my shaft, wetting it. He pulled away, grabbing with a firm hand from the base. He smacked his cheek with the end of my cock. It was getting harder with each whack.

“Suck. It.”

He shook his head. “Make me.”

The magic words. The two words I’d been begging for him to say earlier. He’d said it. Like an abracadabra. I grabbed the back of his head, my cock head resting on his bottom lip. He continued to look me in the eye, his eyes, twinkling, looking to say something.

“Take it.” I pulled, thrusting my cock into his mouth.

He went all the way to the base without gagging. Trying to force himself to take it all. Filling his mouth with the thickness, exploring the inside of his tongue and the back of his throat.

“Like that,” I said, collecting a small handful of his soft short hair on top of his head. I tugged at it, pulling him away. A line of saliva from my cock to his lips.

Benito smiled. “I could taste the soap,” he said. Tugging at the end of my button-down shirt, he wiped his mouth on it.

“I can fix that for you,” I let out in a breathy moan. Guiding my cock back into his mouth. Thrusting back and forth with my hands on his head. His hands clenching at my thighs, pulling, and pushing. We were in synchronised motion together.

He tried to speak. The vibration on his tongue and the tickle of it against the exposed cock head as it pressed against the back of his throat.

It wasn’t meant to happened like this—the muscle clenching throb through my body as I unloaded myself inside his mouth. Benito had his hands wrapped around my thighs, hugging my cock to his face. His tongue caressing my shaft as he finally pulled away.

He wiped his lips with my shirt. “A nice snack,” he said, “but I expect something else for dinner.”

My legs were solid on the ground, trembling in place. I was nearly out of breath, sweat collecting on my brow. And just like that, my week without wanking went out the window—into his mouth.

He was a cocky little brat, and he knew how to play me. That wasn’t part of the terms.