I slowly blinked awake, grumbling. I'd gone to bed late last night, and my bleary eyes weren't happy about the sunlight streaming into my room. My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up to check the time: almost noon. Ah well, not like I had anywhere to be.
I slipped out of bed and into the shower, letting the warm water wash the lingering sleepiness away. My hole was still a little sore from the businessman I'd ridden last night, another in a long string of fun but forgettable hookups. Ever since leaving college last year, I'd mostly ignored my dad's gentle pushes to find a job and a direction in favor of dick and weed. I kept telling myself I'd get it together starting Monday, but week after week came and went without my brain magically getting its act together.
I sighed. I knew Dad was right, I needed to get back on track sooner or later, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Everything used to come to me so easily, but college was so hard and I just couldn't take it. He'd been sympathetic at first, but I could tell his patience was wearing thin. He'd barely even talk to me when he got home from work anymore, and I knew he could tell I was lying when I told him about jobs I'd applied for that day.
At least the hookups were fun. If one good thing had come out of my brief, unsuccessful collegiate career, it was the blossoming of my sex drive. I'd downloaded Grindr my first night in the dorms and threw myself into it with aplomb. I'd never had much interest in sticking my dick in things, so I advertised myself as a bottom. In a big city like mine with a litany of thriving businesses, there was no shortage of older guys looking for a pretty young thing to use.
Some of them liked to give me brief little entrees into the world of kink. A pair of handcuffs here, a blindfold there, the occasional spanking. One of them, a tattooed guy built like a mountain, liked to choke me and blow cigar smoke in my face while he pounded me. That was a particularly fun night.
I stepped out of the shower, towelling my hair dry. The only thing I really put much effort into anymore was my appearance; it was just about all I could take pride in. I looked like a stereotypical twink: big baby blue eyes, pouty lips, a slim frame and a mop of blond hair that always seemed to fall across my eyes. I still hadn't grown a follicle of body hair, much to my embarrassment. Standing at 5'4", I'd been asked for ID at more than one hookup. Most of my partners didn't seem to mind, some of them seemed to really like it.
I slipped into a pair of pajama pants and padded down the stairs to fix myself some breakfast, stopping in my tracks when I saw Dad waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Shit, I thought to myself when I saw his expression. I told him I'd come to his office today! Dad was a high-powered corporate lawyer, with a client list to rival the average Senator. "I skipped a meeting with Tim Cook for this," he said, his low voice tinged with anger.
My blood ran cold. Dad didn't get angry much, and he had a long fuse. But when it burned out, you didn't want to be anywhere nearby. "Da-" I tried to offer an excuse, but he just held up a hand. "Don't even bother Cody," he said, his gaze ice-cold. "Don't bother with another bullshit excuse." He took a step toward me, his muscular, 6'3" frame towering over me. "I know you don't mean it." He hadn't raised his voice at all, but I could feel his fury. "I've spent a whole year giving you chance after chance to step up and be an adult, but you just want to coast and get high and get fucked." I sputtered indignantly, but he just held his hand up again, taking another step toward me.
"You think I don't know what you're doing every night?" he snapped as I took a step back. "How stupid do you think I am, Cody? You come back at god-knows-what time every night, giggling like a moron and smelling like a skunk's asshole. What the fuck am I supposed to think you're up to?" My face burned bright red as I searched through my mind for another explanation, coming up empty. He was right, after all. He stepped toward me again, leaning down so his deep brown eyes were staring directly into mine.
"You're a faggot," he said, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide. He didn't say it with malice, or intent to insult; he was merely stating the obvious. "You go out night after night and take cock after cock because you're a dirty little faggot. Aren't you?" I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, but no words came out. I could only stand silently as he wrapped one of his huge hands around my neck, squeezing lightly. "I asked you a question, faggot."
There was no cruelty in his tone, and the anger in his voice had faded. He simply spoke in a calm, commanding tone that burrowed deep into some primal corner of my brain. My breath caught in my throat and I bit my lip. I detected the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Can you even speak right now, faggot?" I bit down on my lip harder, afraid of what I'd say if I allowed myself to open my mouth. I curled my toes and balled my fists, trying to suppress the feelings welling up inside me that I knew were wrong. Wrong. Right?
He saw the confusion in my eyes and the smile on his lips grew. "Oh, I get it," he said, his grip growing tighter around my neck. Suddenly, his other hand shot forward and firmly grabbed my package. I gasped, trying to jump back in shock but I was unable to pull away from Dad's firm grasp. "My Cody, the little faggot," he said, no longer needing words to confirm what my body made obvious. "No wonder you've fucked every businessman in town. You never knew how to ask for what you wanted the whole time."
