Jason's Dad

Dominant Twink part 3: Jason's Dad.

Jason stood me up the next day. That always sucks, but it comes with the territory, especially if the guy isn't out.

Three days after we were supposed to meet, he sent me a text.

"Hey Praveen, I'm REALLY sorry about ghosting. Something personal came up. I don't want to discuss it in text. Can I call?"

He called, and I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

"So, after you left, my dad came to find me. He started asking weird questions."

"Were they actually weird or were the on point," I asked. I had a feeling his dad knew, generally, what we had done.

"I guess they were on point. Anyway, he caught me changing the comforter on his bed, and I told him I'd-I'd spilled something on it. It was a whole thing, and-

"Jason, just give me the bottom line."

"Okay-so, anyway, he asked me to get something for him out of the garage that same night. When I came back, I couldn't find my phone.

Oh fucking hell.

"

I thought maybe I'd left it in my room, and started looking for it there, and-

"Jason, how long did it take you to find it," I asked, cutting through the rambling.

"About half an hour."

That was more than enough time for dad to see three things: our messages, that his son was a sub, and that his son had a really cute butthole. I'm guessing he didn't appreciate the latter.

"He then," continued Jason, "found me in my room and really let me have it. Called me a fucking embarrassment. Told me I was a fucking loser.

I could tell he was crying. This was my fault.

"He told me he had no interest in supporting a faggot, and if that's what I was going to be, to get the fuck out."

I don't get angry much anymore. I've made my peace with who I am and what I like. But fuck with one of my boys, and I'll kick your ass. I don't care who you are.

"I'm sorry Jason. Your dad sounds like an asshole."

"Yeah...he kinda is," I could hear him composing himself. He didn't need to do that for me. I would find a way to fix this. That was my responsibility as an alpha.

"I want to see you again," Said Jason, "it'll just be a bit complicated...cuz...

Being in your lower 20s is tough. You're an adult, but still at the irritating whim of your parents. As I comforted Jason over the phone, a new message registered on my phone.

"Stop talking to my son!"

Fascinating. So dad stole my number off Jason's phone.

Jason clearly had no idea that his dad was listening outside his bedroom door, and I made the decision not to tell him.

"What do you want me to do to you?"

"Just make me your bitch again. Sit on me, throw me around, drag me around, just make me forget that I'm here. I want to serve you again-

I texted the number back, "I hope you heard all that."

Jason continued, not knowing that his father could hear all his desires. I waited for the follow up text knowing this old man was going to walk into my trap.

"Come near my son again, and I'll kick your tiny ass."

"I'll come in your son whenever I want," I replied.

"Jason," I said, interrupting him, "sorry, but I have to go. We will hang out again. I promise."

"Okay," he said, "yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"I swear to God," came another text.

"Listen, old man, I'm not afraid of anyone who is trying to be tough by threatening me over text, lol. You wanna make a point, meet me face to face."

Toxic men are so predictable. I knew this piece of shit wouldn't be able to resist trying to flex on me. From his point of view, I was just a short, weak, little boy.

"Come here, and I'll set you straight," he replied.

Good luck with that. On all levels.

"Name a time, old man. Let's see how tough you actually are."

There was a long pause between my message and his next one. During that time, Jason sent me about 20 nudes, which was my only sense of how much time had passed. So, 20 nudes later, dad replied. "Tomorrow, come here @7 if you're man enough to face me."

To be clear, I wasn't going there to hook up with him. I was 100% going there to show him I wasn't afraid, and, if necessary, to kick his ass for calling his son a faggot. Yeah, I use that word in roleplay, but it's our word. We get to use it.

I arrived at Jason's house at 7:00 pm, and saw dad, dressed in white t-shirt and sweat pants, talking to a neighbor. He glanced around when he heard my car pull up.

I waited a few seconds to let him end whatever boring suburban conversation he was having with his stupid neighbor. As I got out of the car, I noted that dad looked surprised that I'd shown up.

"Hi Mr. McDonna," I said, in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Hey," he said, still off kilter, "yeah, Jason's inside. I'll let him know you're here."

So he wasn't above using his son as an excuse. Piece of shit. I knew for a fact that Jason was visiting his mother for the day.

He led me into the house, and closed the door behind me. His demeanor changed immediately.

"You've got balls, kid," he snarled.

He was a handsome man, built so much like his son, with a few differences. Unlike Jason, he had black hair that was graying in a few places. His stubble had a nice salt and pepper theme as well, and made a nice coating in his defined jaw line. He might have been hot if he didn't look so angry.

"Just say what you want to say," I said, meeting his disdain.

"Stay away from my house, and my son,"

"or..." I said.

"or-or, I'll make you regret it."

Forget the fact that he stammered through his threat. He couldn't even be specific.

"No," I said.

"What?" he replied, sounding surprised.

"I'm gonna fuck your son," I said, making sure to make eye contact with this asshole, "I'm gonna make him lick my cock, suck my balls, while I spank him. And then, I'm gonna breed him, and he's gonna beg me for more."

Dad had nothing to say. His dark eyes narrowed, and I continued.

"Because that's what he likes. And that's what I like. And we're adults, and we get to do what we want regardless of what shit fathers think.

I'm a small dude. I'm only 5 foot 6 inches, 130 pounds. But I can fuck anyone up. I knew the moment was coming. I could see that glint in his eyes, the same one you see in an angry dog. I just needed his stupid ass to make the first move.

"One more word," he said walking up to me, his chest popping out like a silverback. He stood over me, pointedly looking down.

"I made him lick my ass on your bed," I said counting each word on my fingers.

That did it, this man threw a punch right at my face. For an untrained fighter, it wasn't bad. For me, however, it was slow and clumsy. One counter punch to the stomach and he was doubled over, wheezing.

"You-you..wait," He said, clutching his stomach.

"Uh...no," I said, walking up to him. Before he could react, I grabbed his arm, and pulled him up over my shoulders in one swift motion. The old man seemed startled to be so quickly placed in a fireman's carry, but before he could process it, I bodyslammed him into the ground.

"Awf," he said as the air was knocked out of him as he looked up at the ceiling, dazed.

"I gotta say, old man, "you're not putting up much of a fight." I looked down at him, a smirk on my face. He was starting to recover, and I stood back waiting for his next barrage. You have to be careful with older guys. They break so much easier than the younger ones.

"Get...the fuck-" He started to say from the ground.

"Now you're being rude," I said standing over him. I put the old man in a schoolboy pin, my knees on his arms, my body posted up on his chest. I slapped him 5 times, hard, across the face until I could see some swelling.

He let out another volley of swear words.

"You really are a dumb motherfucker, aren't you?" I said, slapping him hard enough that helikely saw stars. I got off him, stood up, and continued, "Tell you what, I'll-

I stopped mid-sentence because I saw something I know he did not want me to see. When he saw me looking at the tent in the sweatpants, he seemed to snap back to reality.

"Don't-you-" he said, looking horrified, trying to pull his shirt down.

"Guess we know where Jason gets it," I said, my sadistic brain going into overdrive at the site of this erection.

I don't know why, maybe it was the rage, but he spit at me inside his own house. I wasn't impressed.

"I'm not a faggot," he said with as much disdain as he could manage.

I grabbed his left ankle, not unlike how I did with Jason a few days earlier, and dragged him around his house.

"Ahh! The fuck...are---stop!" he yelled. But I didn't. No, he wasn't learning fast enough, and now I knew he was as into this as his beautiful son. I dragged him up his own staircase, his arms trying to keep up, his upper body thumping on each step, and then I dragged him past his bedroom into Jason's room.

"You fucking crazy?" Said the old man, " I'm gonna blow your brains out!"

I trusted him to have a gun. But it wasn't with him, and he wouldn't be able to get it. There was nothing to be afraid of.

I grabbed his hair, forced him to stand up, and locked his right arm behind his back. He cried out in pain, and I waited for him to calm down before speaking.

"You say 'faggot' one more time, and I'll beat you within an inch of your life," I whispered.

Wow, did his cock like that threat even if he whimpered.

"I'm sorry," he moaned, as I drove his arm up.

"Too late for that, old man," I said, "Now take off your pants." I figured he'd be able to manage this even with one arm.

"What?" he said, sounding alarmed.

"Take off your pants,"

"I'm not a fag- "

I spun him around, and I punched him in the eye. He started to fall backwards, but I grabbed his hair, and stood him up.

"I warned you, old man," I said, as I pulled him across my shoulders, and pressed him above my head. For a solid 4 seconds, I held this 170lb man above my head and then dropped him onto the floor of his son's bedroom. He hit the ground with a thud that shook the entire house.

The wind knocked out of him, he howled in pain, clutching his ribs. I pulled off his pants and shorts, exposing his cock and balls.

"Shame," I said, "not quite as big as Jason's. Actually, significantly smaller. Must get it from mom." He was as aroused as his son would have been. His precum dripping onto the carpet.

"Please stop," he begged. We finally were where we needed to be. He'd given up on the illusion that he was going to beat me in a fight. But this was about punishment, not acceptance.

"Stop what?" I asked this whimpering man.

"Hurting me."

I sat on Jason's bed, and considered dad's request. From where we started, this initially defiant, angry, homophobic piece of shit had certainly transitioned. Still, the old man loved being humiliated whether he wanted to admit it or not. Perhaps that was the lesson he needed.

"Take off your shirt, and get on your hands and knees.

He obeyed, his swollen face looking down at the floor of his son's room.

"Apologize for everything you've done, you piece of shit."

"I'm sorry for saying faggot," he said, "I'm sorry for-for belittling my son."

"What else, bitch?"

"Sorry, for threatening you. Thinking I could fight you."

"Apologize for having a small penis,"

"I'm sorry for having a small penis," he said.

I pulled my pants off, my own cock was hard as stone as I humiliated this old piece of shit. I tossed my underwear on the floor.

"Sniff it, small cock," I said. I liked making him watch me stroke my larger cock.

He obeyed, and I watched as his small cock popped up and down with excitement.

"Come here, now." I said, grabbing my own cock, making him look at it.

"Yes sir," he said. Crawling towards me.

"Lick my cock," I said, "Nice and slow."

"but-

I just grabbed his hair, and pushed is mouth over my cock. He didn't even fight me.

"That's right, old man," I said enjoying his rather skillful tongue.

Wait a second

...

"You've done this before, haven't you, old man?"

He stopped sucking, and said, "Not-no,"

I slapped him with my cock and pushed it back down his throat.

"Yeah, you're only into women," I chuckled, I waited for dad to get my cock nice and wet, and then ordered him to lay on Jason's bed, face up.

"Yes sir," he said, obeying. I'd really beaten the fight out of this old man.

With his own saliva as my lube, I fucked the old man, his legs over my shoulders, his eyes tightly shut with pain.

"Fuuuck," He said, "Please..."

I was relentless, like a pile driver, and made sure he felt every single thrust. Each time my hips slapped his ass, he let out a yelp.

He was incredibly tight, and I enjoyed the fact that I was loosening him up a bit. Still, repression shouldn't have felt so good. He came three times before I was ready to bust. I didn't blow my load in his asshole, I thought about it, but I pulled out, and busted all over his face, into his stubble, and onto his lips. His face was coated with my thick milk, and I knew he would never insult his son for his sexuality again.

"Fuck," he said," his eyes closed to avoid the cum from creeping in.

I didn't forget why I was here, and I wasn't going to leave this man with a reward I'd given so many of my subs. I kicked him off his son's bed, and he hit the floor with aloud thud. I sat on the edge of Jason's bed, and told the old man to lay across my knee.

"Please no," he begged.

"If you don't do it voluntarily, I will make you," I said, firmly. I was hoping he'd resist, but, sadly, he lay across my knee and I spanked him as hard as I could. He was a sobbing pile of mush by the time I was done, his ass a bright purple color. I pulled out my phone and made a video of the old man: sobbing, cum in his beard, ass cheeks swollen.

"You ever do anything to hurt that beautiful boy again, the world will see this."

"Ye-yes sir" he sobbed.

I wasn't done yet. I walked over to Jason's laundry hamper, and started rooting around. I was thrilled that Jason hadn't done his laundry in a while. The dirty boy.

"Your son really has some rank stuff in here," I said, holding up Jason's day-old boxer briefs, and sweat-soaked jogging pants.

The old man was confused why I was holding up his son's dirty laundry, but wisely said nothing.

"Open your mouth," I said," as I balled up the boxer briefs.

"Please...no," he cried, as he realized what I was going to do.

I grabbed his nose, and pinched, while pulling up, forcing his jaw open. I crammed the rank boxer briefs into his mouth. Then I pushed him, face down onto the carpet and tied up his arms with the sweatpants. Though gagged, I could still hear him wailing.

I picked him up using his hair and now-bound arms, and carried him to Jason's closet.

"After you finish freeing yourself, you'll clean up this room, do your son's laundry, and wait for him at the kitchen table. You'll tell him you're sorry, and tell-no, encourage him to invite his friend over. You'll be a supportive, loving father from now on," I flung the old man into the closet, and he hit the back wall. "you'll do all those things or next time this'll happen in the front yard."

Through the gag he mumbled something that sounded like "Yes sir."

I closed the door, and heard him start to struggle to get free. I was still naked, and my cock was covered in the old man's saliva. I went to his bedroom and wiped myself off on his pillow. Then I got dressed.

I went home, took a shower, enjoying the solitude and the satisfaction that I had made things right for Jason. After a nice dinner with my family, I retreated to my bedroom. I had to beat off again, just thinking about humiliating the old man was getting me going. Some hours later, I received rapid messages from Jason about how his dad apologized, and even asked him to invite me over. I asked him what brought about the change.

"He must have hit his head pretty hard falling off the ladder, I guess."

"Wdym?" I asked.

"He said he fell off a ladder outside, but honestly it just looks like he got his ass kicked.

"Oh damn, is he okay?" I asked, "Did he go to a doctor?"

"No, he said he doesn't need one," said Jason," but Praveen..."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."