I went back to it, tongue pushing inside his hole, tasting him as deeply as I could while his fingers worked me open. He added a third finger, stretching me wider, and I felt the burn intensify.
His mouth never left my cock. He sucked me steadily, throat relaxing to take me deep, while his fingers fucked into me relentlessly. Every thrust hit my prostate, sending shocks of pleasure through my system.
Then he pulled off my cock with a wet sound and said, “Open your mouth. Wide.”
I did, confused for only a second before I understood what he was asking for.
“Gonna give you something else to swallow,” he said, voice rough. “You want it?”
“Yes, Daddy. Please.”
He shifted his position slightly, angling his cock toward my open mouth, and then I felt the first warm splash hit my tongue. The taste was bitter, unmistakably piss, and it filled my mouth quickly.
“Swallow it. Don't spill a drop.”
I swallowed frantically, the warm liquid going down my throat while more kept coming. It was filthy and degrading and so fucking hot I thought I might come untouched. He kept going, a steady stream that I struggled to keep up with, some of it escaping the corners of my mouth and running down my cheeks.
“That's it. Take it all. Such a good little piss slut for Daddy.”
I swallowed and swallowed until finally the stream slowed and stopped. I was breathing hard, face wet and messy, and when I looked up at him his eyes were black with lust.
“Fucking perfect. Look at you. Covered in my piss, full of it.” He ran his thumb over my lips, gathering the wetness there. “You're mine. Marked inside and out.”
“Yes, Daddy. I'm yours.”
He pulled his fingers out of my hole and climbed off me. “On your hands and knees. Now.”
I scrambled to obey, getting into position despite my shoulder protesting the movement. I kept my weight on my good side, ass up and presented for him.
His hands came to my hips immediately, gripping hard, thumbs tracing the curve of my ass like he was memorizing it. I could feel his cock hard against my lower back, feel the heat of him, and I pushed back instinctively.
“Stay still.” The command was rough, breathless. His hands spread my cheeks, and I felt him press closer—and then pause.
“Lube. Where is it?” His voice was ragged, barely controlled. Like the question was costing him something.
“Bag,” I managed. “My bag. Side pocket.”
He left the bed for approximately four seconds and it felt like four years. I heard the zip of the bag, the rummage, his quiet grunt of satisfaction when he found it. Then he was back, the bed dipping under his weight, his hands on me again like he couldn't stand not touching me for even that long.
The click of the cap. The cool drizzle of lube against my hole, making me hiss.
“Good?” he asked.
“More than good. Please?—”
He pulled his fingers free and I felt his hands on my ass cheeks, spreading them, and then the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole.
“Gonna fill this perfect hole with my come and watch it leak out of you.”
“Please, Daddy. Want to feel you. All of you.”
He pushed in slowly. I could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him inside me without any barrier. It was intimate and primal and exactly what I needed.
“Fuck, you feel incredible like this. So hot and tight around my cock.”
He bottomed out and we both groaned. Then he started moving, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The angle let him go deep, hitting my prostate on every thrust, and I had to brace myself to keep from collapsing.
“This hole was made for me,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Made to take my cock. Made to be bred.”
