Call Me Daddy Read online

  “Call me Daddy.”

  Holy shit. Instantly, my brain sent out invitations to a party, complete with funfetti cupcakes, and my dick was bringing the guacamole. It’d become very clear to me several days ago that I had a bit of a Daddy kink, evidenced by the iron pole I started pitching in my pants when one of the first clients I’d had asked me to call him Daddy. I wasn’t as turned on when he talked about fucking me against a tree in a forest because that sounded like a good way to get poison ivy in some very secret places, but every time he called me his baby boy, sharp tingles danced all over my skin.

  Not only did this client sound crazy hot, but I got to spend the next few minutes indulging my new kink?

  Yes, please and thank you.

  “Okay, Daddy,” I breathed.

  “Good boy,” he said, and my stomach tied itself into a Christmas bow. How did those two words sound so fucking good, coming from a complete stranger?

  Don’t know, don’t care.

  “What are you wearing?” I asked, and tried to imagine his response. Wait. What? I wasn’t supposed to be fantasizing about the client. The only thing I wanted to be sure he was wearing was his cum right before he hung up on me.

  “Gray suit and tie.”

  Did he wear a suit to work? I wondered how old he was. Was his hair graying on the sides? What color were his eyes? Did he raise his eyebrow at people as he peered at them over the sexy reading glasses perched on his nose? Instead I asked, “What color tie?” because for some reason I desperately needed to know.

  “Baby boy blue.”

  Well, that was now officially my favorite color. Fuck off, orange.

  “What are you wearing, Julian?”

  The way my name rolled off his tongue made my breath hitch and my cock twitch. What did he want me to say? What was the right answer, the one that would earn me another “good boy”? Should I say something sexy? What would Daddy think was sexy?

  I went with honesty. “Red t-shirt, jeans.”

  “Very nice.” Apparently Daddy had no trouble purring, and the sound went straight to my cock. “What do you say we get you out of that t-shirt, Julian?”

  I was very amenable to that idea. “Okay.” I reached for the hem of my shirt and paused. What the fuck was I doing? I was only supposed to act like I was undressing, not actually strip. Daddy had me following his every suggestion, and I shouldn’t want that, right? It shouldn’t be so easy to follow his instructions. I wasn’t supposed to get into this.

  But I was.

  I was so into it.

  Fuck it. With one hand, I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head, only losing one earbud in the process. I scrambled, finding it quickly on the floor, then stood and moved back toward my desk chair, when another question occurred to me.

  “Did I lose you, Julian?”

  I pressed the earbud into my ear. “No. Sorry. I was just wondering…”

  “What were you wondering, baby boy?”

  My cock jumped at his pet name and now I was wondering if this man could talk me into a hands-free orgasm. “I was wondering if I should move to my bed?”

  “You should absolutely move to your bed. That’s an amazing idea. Good boy.”

  Hngh.

  How had I never known how hot words could be? Sex is touching, right? Holding, rubbing? Throw in some licking… but I was diamond hard just from a pet name and some words of praise. Why had no one ever told me sexy talk was so… well, sexy?

  I grabbed my phone from my desk and crossed to my big bed, tossing it on a pillow as I crawled over it, settling in. It was just my normal bed, but it felt more comfortable somehow, like it was enveloping me, because he was there with me. Kind of.

  “Are you in bed, Julian?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” I nestled in deeper, the blanket soft against the bare skin of my back.

  “Good boy.” His words were a trail of light kisses down my spine and I shivered. “Daddy is there with you now.”

  I wished he was. In my bed with me, telling me how good I was. “What are you doing with me, Daddy?”

  “I’m running my hands over your skin, baby. Can you feel me?”

  No? Yes? I didn’t know, but god, I wanted to. “Mmhmm.” I resisted the urge to touch myself – this was not about my enjoyment.

  “My hands are so warm, touching your stomach, sliding up to your chest.”

  My fingers twitched. I ached to mirror his words, to use my own hands and pretend they were his, but that wasn’t how this was supposed to work.

  “I’m brushing my fingertips over your sweet little nipple. Can you feel it get hard for me?”

  Okay, fuck it. My cock was officially a fucking rock in my jeans. Whatever, society! This is amazing and I’m going to enjoy it. There are no real rules, right? Except no kissing on the mouth. Or… wait… was that just for Julia Roberts?

  “Baby? Can you feel it?”

  Christ. Every part of me was hard for him, including my nips. I gently ran my fingertips over my stomach, tracing them upward, brushing them lightly over my nipple, and I couldn’t stop my little gasp. “It feels good, Daddy.” So good.

  “Now, I’m placing warm, wet kisses on your neck.” He let out a low sound, something like a growl, and I shivered. “God, baby, you taste so good.”

  My eyes fell closed and my hand made its way to my neck, tracing the places I imagined Daddy kissing me. My cock strained against the confines of my jeans, begging for my hand, but I wasn’t going to touch it. Not until Daddy did.

  Was I supposed to be actively participating in this? Daddy was clearly driving this encounter and I was inclined to let him. He was way better at this phone sex thing than I was. I hummed quietly, letting him know I was still there, desperate for more.

  “Can you feel my tongue against your skin?”

  I did. It was warm, but left a cooling trail in its wake. “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Now I’m running my finger over your lips. You’re so beautiful, baby.”

  I fucking blushed, basking in the praise. I didn’t care if he had never really seen me, didn’t know I was just an ordinary guy… I fucking felt beautiful. “Thank you.” I brushed my thumb over my bottom lip lightly.

  “So polite. I love that. Open your pretty mouth for Daddy.”

  My lips parted of their own volition. I was powerless to do anything except exactly what he told me.

  His voice deepened. “I’m slipping my finger between your sweet lips.”

  Oh god. The tip of my index finger rested gently on my bottom lip before I moved it deeper into my mouth. I whimpered around it, the pad of my finger resting on my tongue, the taste of salt and root beer filling my mouth, waiting for my next instruction.

  “Suck Daddy, baby boy.”

  Yes please. My lips closed around my finger and I hollowed my cheeks, taking more of it into my mouth, running my tongue over it, gently testing it with my teeth, pretending it was Daddy, imagining him beside me, feeding me his finger.

  I moaned through my closed mouth, my hips pushing into the air, my cock painfully hard and desperate for any kind of touch. I pictured Daddy looking down at me, eyes dark and wild and full of want… for me.

  “Such a good boy for Daddy, Julian.”

  I pulled my finger from my mouth and let out a shuddering breath that turned into a loud groan, vibrating in my chest.

  “Shh. You have to be quiet, baby boy. Your mother is in the next room.”

  I froze, my body flashing hot, then cold, drops of sweat beading on my forehead. Holy fucking fuck of all fucks. This guy didn’t want to be my Daddy… he wanted to be my dad. My mouth went instantly dry and I ran my tongue over my lips, unable to stop a low moan escaping from a place deep inside me. I tried to hold it back, pretend I wasn’t more turned on than I’d been for the entirety of my twenty years on this planet, but the way my cock was soaking the inside of my briefs indicated that neither my subconscious nor my dick was afraid to ‘fess up.

  Everything about th
is was so fucking hot it burned. His words were a fire licking its way through my body as my brain processed this attraction, this need, that challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. I pressed the heel of my hand against my cock, my eyes falling shut as I moaned again. This man wanted to pretend I was his son… and I’d never felt sexier in my life.

  “Sorry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I’ll be quiet.”

  “You’re such a good boy, Julian,” he cooed. “My precious son.”

  If I didn’t get some friction on my cock, I was going to literally die. “Daddy,” I whined softly. “I need…”

  “What do you need, baby?”

  Everything. I needed everything. “I’m so hard, Daddy. Please.”

  I heard his sharp intake of breath. “I’ve got you, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

  Suddenly, an image flooded my mind, something I couldn’t unsee. This nondescript man on the other end of the phone, this person I was calling Daddy, now had a face I would recognize anywhere: I was picturing my father.

  When Andy started lusting after my dad, it occurred to me that he was a good-looking man… tall and fit, with thick dark hair and amazing green eyes. But he was my DAD. I could acknowledge he was attractive, and I had wondered more than once if I was going to be as hot as he was when I was his age. But that was it. I’d never, ever thought of him in anything but a fatherly way. What the fuck was even happening?

  The caller let out a slow moan, and I tried to think of something else, anything, but my mind was stuck. My brain imagined my dad in his bedroom, with the door locked, his full lips parting slightly to release his sexy sound into the quiet. My dad, eyes closed tightly, pink tongue darting out as he held his cock firmly in one hand.

  My dad had no interest in me sexually, obviously. He was straight, for one. And not a total perv, for two. My dad had never touched me inappropriately, never made sexual comments. He was just a regular dad with a boring office job. He told dumb jokes and made me breakfast and always slipped me some cash before I left on a date.

  So, why couldn’t I get the image of his sexy smirk out of my head, the little smile he used when he was exceptionally pleased with himself?

  “Julian,” Daddy murmured in my ear, “I’m unbuttoning your jeans.”

  OhmyfuckyesthankyouJesus. My hands flew to my waist, ripping open my pants.

  “I’m pushing them down, gradually, kissing every inch of your exposed skin.”

  I whined, both thumbs in the top of my jeans, lowering them slowly. The feeling of the fabric moving over my dick made me want to scream. I kicked them off with enough force that they flew across the room. I imagined my dad’s face, smiling at my eagerness. He’d tell me there was no rush, that he would take his time worshiping me as I cried and begged for more.

  Why wasn’t I fucking naked yet? Why wasn’t I stroking myself just the way I liked?

  Because I wasn’t given permission.

  “Daddy, please.” I rested my fingertips on the waistband of my briefs, heels of my hands on my hips. I was so close, so close to touching myself, to my dad touching me, just using my fingers instead of his. I needed it. “Please.”

  His chuckle was warm and low as it ran through me. “What, baby? Tell Daddy what you need.”

  Humfgh. “I need… touch me. Oh god, touch me, Daddy.” My sexy voice was gone, every word coming out a high-pitched whine.

  “Hush, baby boy. I’ll take care of you.”

  I saw my dad on the backs of my eyelids, laughing at me as he moved closer. He never denied me anything and right now I wanted him.

  I wanted my dad.

  “Should Daddy take off your briefs, son?”

  At this point they were fucking soaked with precum, so peeling them off of me would have been a more accurate statement. “Yes, Dad, please.”

  “Can you feel me sliding them down your hips? Over your thighs? Past your knees, baby?”

  In a nanosecond, they were off, joining my jeans in the land of Who the Fuck Cares and finally, finally, my cock was free. It rested against my stomach, and my hands tingled in anticipation. I was so close.

  “You’re so sexy, baby. Your cock is so beautiful… so hard. Is that for me?”

  “Yes,” I croaked, my mouth and throat a desert. I tried to wet my lips, but my tongue stuck to them. Every drop of fluid in my body was escaping through my cock. My poor, neglected cock.

  “Tell me, baby.”

  “I’m so hard for you, Dad,” I whispered. “Please.” My hips jerked up, pressing against air, and I could have cried at the everything I needed and the nothing that I had.

  “Your cock is aching, isn’t it, baby?”

  “Yes.” Not a word so much as a moan.

  “Who do you want to touch it? Who do you want to make you come, Julian?”

  I could feel my heart race in my ears, my pulse pounding in my cock. “You. Please.”

  His voice was broken glass. “Say it, baby.”

  “Make me come, Dad, please. I’ll do anything, Daddy…” Frantic pleas fell out of me, one after the other.

  “Shh. You’re so good, waiting for Daddy. I’m going to give you what you need.” There was a pause. “Jesus, baby, your cock feels so good in my hand.”

  That was my cue and I fucking took it, wrapping my fingers around my dick, almost crying with relief.

  “Daddy is stroking you, sweet boy. He’s got your pretty cock in his hand and he’s giving you long, firm strokes.”

  My movements mirrored his words, anything to make this seem more real, to believe it was my dad’s hand making me feel so good my vision was fading in and out.

  “How does that feel?”

  “So good.” My words slurred together. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “I’m going to take care of you, baby. I’m adding lube now. Daddy’s hand is so slippery now, sliding over your sweet dick.”

  Fuck, Dad was fucking perfect. I much preferred lubed hand jobs to dry, except at the moment I was too fucking turned on to take my hand off my dick for one second to find my lube, so I spit into my left hand and smeared it all over the head.

  “Daddy has your balls in his hand, baby. I’m holding them while I stroke you.”

  My free hand, now tacky with spit, found my balls, rolling them back and forth in my fingers. This phone call was the best sex I’d ever had in my life.

  “Daddy… oh fuck…”

  “Do you feel that, baby?” He was hoarse, choked. I could hear him in the background, the familiar sound of skin on wet skin. “Daddy’s finger on your sweet little hole?”

  My vision went fuzzy as my hand crept lower.

  “I’m just touching it so lightly, petting it, baby. It’s so gorgeous.”

  “It’s yours, Dad.”

  “I know it is…” He chuckled. “I made you and I made this perfect little hole, so it belongs to me.”

  My brain melted in my head.

  “Do you feel the tip of my finger? Working its way inside you?”

  “Fuck… yes, Daddy, it feels so good.”

  “I wish it were my tongue, baby boy,” he growled. “I’d suck on your hole for an hour, lapping at it, slipping inside you, your sweet taste on my lips… my stubble rubbing against your gorgeous ass.”

  “Daddy, yes, please…” I fucked myself with my finger, picturing my dad between my legs, his mouth on me, making me scream.

  “You want that, don’t you, baby? Me getting you wet and open, ready to take Daddy’s cock.”

  His words made my balls tighten and a low, desperate moan clawed its way out of me.

  “Christ, the sounds you make are so fucking sexy.” His voice got louder. “Give me more.”

  My mind was caught up in the fantasy. “But Mom is in the next room, Dad, she’ll hear us.”

  “Oh, fuck, Julian.” I could hear his breath coming in short pants. “You’re making Daddy come.”

  My hand moved faster – I was so close and I wanted this. I wanted to come with my dad.


  “Oh, god, my sweet baby boy. I fucking love you, Jules.”

  My orgasm hit me like a fucking bus, twin explosions behind my eyelids and in my balls, stealing any conscious thought. “Dad, I love you… I love you.” The words poured from my lips as long, thick ribbons of cum covered my hand, my stomach, my cock. I stroked myself through it, listening to a stranger tell me he loved me, pretending, wishing, it was someone else.

  I panted, forgetting to be sexy, just trying to get my lungs to work. After a minute of nothing but quiet breathing, someone spoke. I think it was me.

  “That was…”

  “Yeah. It was.” I heard him take another steadying breath. “Thank you, Julian,” he said, so soft and sweet. Then he was gone.

  I pulled out my earbuds and sat up on my bed in a daze. What the fuck had just happened? Had I really jerked myself off to a stranger on the phone, thinking about my dad?

  What was wrong with me?

  I tried to catch my breath and make sense of my life. Nothing was wrong with me, I told myself. Fantasies are just fantasies. The hot stranger and I were two consenting adults and a little role-playing never hurt anyone.

  But he was role-playing your actual father, and you were starring as yourself.

  Oh my god, shut up, brain!

  I needed more air – all of the oxygen in the room had left when I’d come.

  I leapt from the bed and raced upstairs. I could breathe a bit easier as I looked around the kitchen. It felt more normal, but I wanted to put some distance between myself and that house before my dad came home and I had to look him in the eye. Maybe I would head over to Andy’s. He was sick and probably contagious, but getting the flu would be good penance for the events of the past hour.

  I stood in front of the fridge and guzzled a bottle of water. Apparently sexual deviance was very dehydrating.

  “Is that you, kiddo?” A voice came from upstairs and I froze.

  My dad. What the fuck was he doing home? What time was it? My breaths were shallow as I considered how he could have walked in on me, coming like a freight train, “Daddy” on my lips and my dad on my mind.

  “Julian?”

  Oh fuck. Okay, I need to play it cool.

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I thought it might be someone who snuck in to wash the dishes you keep saying you’re going to take care of.”