Dec the Halls

by Gianni Holmes

  “Fuck, Daddy!” Owen’s chest heaved, and his shoulders shook from the effort he made to calm down. I didn’t give him the second he needed. Eyes boring into his, I lined up his dick and spat on it. With my hand, I stroked my saliva down his length, easing the friction and chance of irritation.

  “Oh fuck, babe, what are you doing to me?” Owen sounded completely devastated, but he was unable to stop me.

  And I needed to hear him admit it.

  “Want me to stop?”

  He shook his head, eyes widened in panic as if the idea of me stopping was Armageddon itself.

  “No, no, Daddy, please. I’m too far gone.”

  I’d been gone too far from the night I saw him standing in the courtyard of my father’s house while he waited to transport Charles and me to his bachelor’s party. What if I’d never met him? My life would have been so different. He was the reason I was alive. The reason I could smile. The reason I looked forward to each day because I knew he was a part of it.

  “Sit in my chair.” I coaxed him up from the desk, and he dropped heavily into my chair. I could have had him kneel on the floor, but I didn’t want the hardness to wear on his knees.

  His eyes followed me hungrily when I reached for the waistband of my jeans. It was an old pair, which clung to my form, and I hadn’t bothered with a belt. The button popped from the hole, and Owen’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. I lowered the zipper, and he swallowed.

  “Daddy’s been working all day,” I murmured, halting my movement. I reveled in the frustration in his eyes, the way he bit his bottom lip to hold in whatever words he wanted to say. It had taken us months to reach this level. He knew that if he tried to hasten me, I would just make him wait even longer.

  “Daddy needs to relax,” he replied. “I can help you to relax.”

  I eased the waistband of my jeans down my hips, shoving the material softened from wash down my thighs. My hands teased at the underwear beneath, but I stalled.

  “How do you propose you can do that?”

  “For starters, I can finish helping you undress.”

  I let my hands fall away from my underwear. “So why don’t you?” I asked, teasing him.

  His hands shot forward, then stopped inches from my briefs. He raised his hopeful eyes . “I’m waiting for your permission.”

  “So ask for it.”

  “May I please help you undress, Daddy?”

  I nodded. “Good, boy. Daddy loves when you help him strip off his clothes.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my briefs and peeled them down. The tight stretch of the material scrubbed down my thighs, freeing my hard-on. My cock was fully erect, having instantly come to life as soon as Owen had entered my office. Kissing him and touching him were all it took for me to be this hard.

  “What are you thinking?” He just stood there, staring at me as if it was the first time he was being graced with the sight of my cock.

  “How beautiful you are naked,” he answered, the awe-struck tone matching his look. “Your cock…”

  “What about it?”

  “I want to touch it.”

  “That’s all you want to do to it?”

  “Just for starters,” he said. “But I also want to kiss it, to feel you sliding down my throat. Will you allow me?”

  “Since you asked so nicely.” And since I was horny as fuck and unlikely to get anything else done for the rest of the day. “Help yourself.”

  And help himself, he did.

  True to his word, Owen started by touching me, but not where I’d expected. He caressed my thighs, pushed his hands up under my shirt, and stroked the muscles of my abs before he even lavished his attention to my dick.

  My balls were the first thing he cupped, gently massaging them in his palm. My cock bobbed and weaved with every squeeze and rub, and as cool and unaffected as I started out trying to be to motivate him even more, I was completely unraveled when he lowered his head over my cock.

  My expectations fell flat but held so much more. His tongue flicked out and lapped at the slit of my cock. He played with the head, rolling his tongue around its width. Owen had learned a lot about me in the past six months, and now he used that as arsenal.

  Even with his potential to wreck me, I welcomed the devastation, knowing the pleasure it would leave in its wake.

  His mouth enclosed over my cockhead, and he gently sucked me into his mouth. He knew that with my sensitive foreskin, the deep throating that worked so well on him wasn’t the best part of a blow job for me.

  It was the attention he gave to the head, the way his lips softly sucked on that tip, pulling lightly on my foreskin. His lips massaged the sensitive area, the slip and slide motion driving me insane.

  My fingers cupped the back of his head as I gently thrust upward. I matched the unhurried pace of his rhythm, hissing between my teeth. Just by wrapping those succulent lips around my cock, he pressed all my pleasure points.

  “Fuck, baby boy,” I groaned, no longer denying how much he had me by the balls. Quite literally too at that. I couldn’t stop staring at him and the way he made love to my cock. “That feels so good how you come up on that skin, boy.” He did it again, and my toes curled. If I didn’t get a grip soon, I would shoot my load into his mouth, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to prolong the moment as long as possible.

  “That’s enough, boy,” I told him.

  A greedy Owen either refused to obey me or was so entranced with my cock that he didn’t hear. Regardless of which, he didn’t stop.

  He kept going, sucking my cock greedily, his wet mouth driving me closer and closer to the brink. I didn’t want him to stop after that. I was already so fucking close I just wanted it all. To be so full that I had to drain it all into his mouth.

  My hips jackknifed forward in the staccato note of my release. I blew hard, gasping and moaning through it all. I spilled onto his tongue, and his throat worked with each of his swallows. When I was empty, he didn’t let me go. I rocked back on my feet, completely spent, but Owen held the base of my cock, kissed the head over and over, and trailed his tongue along the underside.

  “I said, enough,” I rasped when I was finally able to speak again. I tugged at his hair, and he released my cock and licked his lips.

  Fuck, but he looked scrumptious, his lips full and glistening wet.

  “Did I do good?” he asked, eyes beaming with pride.

  “You blew my mind,” I answered honestly, leaning forward and kissing his lips deeply, slowly, just the way he had kissed my cock. He deserved nothing less. His lips clung to mine, and he moaned into my mouth. I pulled away from him slightly. “Too bad I have to punish you for defying me. I told you it was enough.”

  Owen bit his bottom lip. “But you enjoyed it.”

  “Yes, that I did, but rules are rules, and you disobeyed your Daddy. I’m the one who decides when I am ready to come and when you are. Not you.”

  He groaned, peering down into his lap and his straining erection. “I guess this means you won’t grant me permission to touch myself?”

  “That’s right.” I beckoned for him to get out of my chair. “You’ll sit right here beside me on the floor quietly like a good boy, writing your lines about how important it is to listen to your Daddy.”

  “Can I at least type it, please?”

  I gave him a dead stare at the wide-eyed look he gave me. “The last time I gave you permission to type your lines, you simply copied and pasted it over and over.”

  Color suffused Owen’s face as he blushed to the very roots of his hair. “You kn-knew?” he spluttered.

  “Not very much gets beyond me, boy.” I fixed my jeans, cupping my groin to adjust my sensitive cock in the material. I marched over to the lounge he sometimes occupied when I was home and he was writing but wanted to be close to me. I snagged two of the throw pillows from the lounge chair and passed them to him. “Here
you go. Make yourself comfortable.”

  I pretended not to see his scowl, and for a second I thought he would argue. Instead, Owen grudgingly took the pen and notepad I handed him.

  “How many lines?” he asked.

  “Just a hundred.”

  He snorted. I had to hold back my laugh at his belligerence. In that moment, he seemed like an eight-year-old who did the crime but didn’t want to do the time. When he was settled on the cushions, I leaned sideways and kissed the top of his head reassuringly.

  “There’s Daddy’s good boy.”

  “As soon as I finish this, we’re talking about Christmas dinner and decorating,” he said. “I can’t believe I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Fine. Lines first. Now don’t interrupt Daddy while he makes some phone calls.”

  I grabbed my cell phone and tapped in the number for the next call I had to tackle that afternoon. All the time, I was aware of Owen beside me, the scratching of the pen on the notepad as he obediently carried out his punishment.

  A hundred lines seemed a lot, but it really wasn’t. He’d written more than that in the past, and the discipline was more of a gentle tap on the wrist than an outright punishment. I allowed him to stay with me after all, and I didn’t even say anything when he leaned forward and rested his head on my knee, seeking comfort.

  The CFO of our company’s voice drifted away. Owen being in the office with me was more distraction than I’d hoped for. With a sigh, I finally gave in and slipped my fingers through the short strands of his hair, brushing the soft locks. I pretended I didn’t notice the way he stopped writing and arched into my touch like a kitten. He melted against my leg and went back to his lines.

  I wasn’t sure how long I caressed him or even what the hell I’d agreed to on the call. The scratching of the pen on the paper had stopped. One glance to my left revealed why.

  Sneaky little devil.

  Owen, who obviously thought the call had distracted me, had one hand in his sweatpants, surreptitiously stroking his cock. I was not surprised at all when my cock twitched despite my recent climax.

  I enjoyed watching my boy while he got off. At times I would sit back in our bedroom and allow him to put on a show for me while he touched himself and fucked his hole with the myriad of toys we’d amassed in such a short time.

  “Mr. Moore, did you hear me?” the CFO asked.

  “Yes, John,” I lied, Owen’s quickening breath distracting me even more. “But I’m sorry, I am going to have to call you back. Something quite interesting has come to my attention.”

  I ended the call and turned my head fully in Owen’s direction. He no longer had his hand in his sweatpants, and he raised his head. “Something wrong?”

  “How many lines have you written already?” I asked, ignoring his question.

  “Umm.” He glanced down at the page, with a small frown. “Not a lot.”

  I nodded at him thoughtfully. “As soon as you’re done, you may go to the couch, and I’ll make you come.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” His attention returned to the notepad in his lap, and he scribbled quickly. I took one last glance at his cock tenting the front of his sweatpants but had to tear my eyes away from him before I’d prematurely end his punishment and drape him over my desk.

  Three

  Owen

  “I’m done,” I said to Declan, resting the pen on the notepad. I cringed when I took in the blurred words on the sheet of paper. I’d started writing I must obey Daddy in my bold handwriting, but with Declan dangling the promise of sex in front of me, I hadn’t cared how the words turned out. The main objective was to get down the hundred lines.

  Whether or not they were legible was another thing.

  “You sure it’s a hundred?” Declan asked from his seat beside me. Some people might have been offended at being placed to sit by their partner’s feet, but I adored being so close to Declan. When he sifted his fingers through my hair, stroking me, it relaxed me. Made me forget about the lines I was supposed to be writing.

  “Yes, Daddy. I double-checked. May I go to the lounge now?”

  My mind was already sifting through all the ways I wanted him to touch me. I was horny and needed a nice hard drilling. Declan was more than capable of delivering.

  “I need to approve the lines before you go.”

  I groaned, handing him the notepad reluctantly. I held my breath, expecting him to give me the lines to rewrite. My hands ached from writing so fast, but I hadn’t been able to slow down.

  “Hmm, seems someone was in quite a rush,” he said. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

  He really was going to make me say it out loud? Very well then. “You promised we would have sex when I was through.”

  “And you think you deserve it now with this sloppy handwriting? I should make you do it all over again.”

  “But—”

  “Lucky for you”—he rose to his feet— “I’m ready to take a break. Come on. I have a promise to fulfill. Go to the couch.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Undress for me.”

  I stood by the lounge chair and reached for my shirt, pulling on the material until it was over my head and lying on the floor. Then I shucked off my sweatpants along with my underwear. When I was naked, I waited for his direction.

  “Perfect,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to me.

  A mirror might have been handy right there and then, but I knew what my body looked like, and I was far from perfect. With his lean muscles and good looks, he was the closest thing to perfection I’d ever encountered. The way he looked at me, though, one would have thought I was runway model material. It was that look that had made me fall so deeply in love with my husband.

  I was perfect in his eyes.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” he commanded, and he sauntered toward me. Every nerve ending was taut in anticipation as he circled me without touching, taking in the view of my naked body.

  He stopped at my back, and lips pressed to the base of my spine. His clothes rustled, his jerking movements meaning he was undressing. He did so while he kissed down my spinal cord, his tongue flickering out to lick my vertebrae.

  By the time he reached the middle of my back, I was gasping, struggling for air. Declan trailed his mouth over the indentation in my back, which gave way to the swell of my ass. When I thought he would have spread me and fucked me with his tongue—which he was so fond of doing—he kissed his way back up to my nape.

  “Declan,” I moaned his name.

  “Hmm?” He wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder, nipping at the skin with his teeth as he pressed his naked front to my back. He ground his cock into the curve of my ass, thrusting lazily against my flesh.

  “I want you so much.”

  “I know,” he replied.

  His hand brushed over the soft curve of my belly and nestled in the clump of curls at the base of my cock. He cupped me and slid his hand down to my tip before bringing the caress back up.

  I leaned into him, breathing heavily, held too tightly against him to move into his touch. I was too confused at what to chase— the sensation of my dick fucking his fist or of his dick rubbing against my ass, teasing me.

  “Daddy, please,” I begged shamelessly. “I want more, please.”

  “Get onto your knees on the lounge chair,” he said. “Keep your back to me and hold on for dear life, sweet boy. I intend to lick you inside and out.”

  “Fuck, I’m not opposed to that at all.” I climbed onto the lounge chair eagerly, situating myself just as he wanted.

  I’d long since gotten over the overzealous way I always spread myself open for Declan. No shame existed in the depravity of our love for each other or the carnality with which we viewed our bodies. He was mine, and I was his. That was the simple truth that brought clarity for us both.

  “Do you know what you do to me when I see you naked and spread open for me like this, boy?” he murmured.

  I had some id
ea. It was the same powerful emotion that claimed me when I was opened up for him like this. My legs were wide apart, my chest dropped to the back of the lounge, which caused my ass to jut out.

  “What are you going to do to me, Daddy?” I gasped when his hands grasped my ass gently and caressed my flesh. His hands cupped and massaged my cheeks, then spread them apart.

  “I’m going to play with you,” he replied, releasing my right cheek and running his thumb down my crack and over my hole. “And when you’re close to the edge, then I’m going to help you go over by fucking you. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect,” I moaned.

  “Now reach behind you and hold your ass cheeks wide for me. I want to stare at that hole, drive myself mad with thoughts of being inside you.”

  Fuck, he was in a playful mood today. When Declan got like this, he could go for hours, edging me before he finally allowed us both to come. Considering the reason I was here in the first place, I should have wanted this to end as soon as possible, but instead, I was quite looking forward to the things he would do to my body.

  I spread myself for him just like he’d asked. I kept my forehead pressed to the soft material of the lounge chair, but when soft footsteps padded away from me, I had to glance back to find out what he was doing.

  Declan walked to his desk, rifled through the drawer, and retrieved a bottle of lube. This wasn’t the first time I’d interrupted him working, asking him to fuck me. For that matter, I had a near-empty bottle of lube in my own drawer in my office as well. He interrupted me just as often as I interrupted him.

  It was a wonder we got anything done around here, but the truth was that following our honeymoon, we pretty much banged each other’s brains out in every damn place in this house. There wasn’t a room that hadn’t seen our naked bodies or walls that hadn’t absorbed our groans of pleasure.

  Declan kept his eyes on me all the time as he took his sweet time. His eyes were focused on one point: my ass. My ass wasn’t as tight nor as firm as it used to be, but he loved what I had to offer him, so we were both content with what we got out of our sex life.