Long Distance Daddy

by Raven Watyrs

  Long Distance Daddy

  (An Intercontinental TABOO tale…)

  By Raven Watyrs

  Copyright 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialog, and everything else are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  DISCLAIMER:

  All characters engaged in sexual, quasi-sexual, pseudo-sexual, or meta-sexual relations in this work are over 18 years of age, 100% consenting, not blood-relating, 100% human, and loving every minute of it.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase and additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  And More…

  Chapter 1

  Wrapping one hand around the thick base of my aching cock, I slide my other fist over the mushroom head, spreading slick pre-come around my palm before sliding it back down my vein-popped shaft. I feel like my dick is going to rocket off my body with each pass of my slippery hand. Intense pleasure pulses through me causing my ass to clench in time to meet each pump of my hand. My balls tighten as my orgasm approaches, but I'm not quite ready to end this little session. Not with what I'm watching at the moment. I grip at my balls as I continue to jack myself into exquisite and primal carnality, gritting my teeth and growling at the explicit video playing on my computer screen.

  This isn't the first time I've jacked off in my corner office, thirty-seven floors above the busy yet pristine streets of Singapore. Hell, it's not even the first time today. I've done more masturbating in this office than I ever did back at home in New York, even when I was a teenager I'd wager. Hard not to when currently it’s the only sexual release I’m permitted. Goddamn the distance between Singapore and New York.

  I can’t really complain, I suppose. Most guys in long distance relationships watch porn, but how many get their own custom reel sent direct to their inbox every day? It's amazing I get any work done at all now that the frequency of the videos has increased so much. If it were anyone else, they’d be out on their ass before lunchtime. But since I'm the boss around here, and everyone knows not to knock when my door is shut, I'm free to get off as much as I need. Thanks to my girlfriend, Kristin’s, skill with a video camera and a tripod back home in the States, that need is met over and over again.

  Leaning back in my expensive leather office chair, I press the back of my head into its supple headrest and imagine Kristin straddling herself over my lap. Another ooze of pre-come coats my hand as I visualize her lowering her wet little pussy straight down over my thick shaft. It's not hard to picture, thanks to the reel of videos she started sending me six months back.

  I’m not usually an exclusive, one-woman type of guy. Before Kristin, I let my dick lead me from one tight hole to the next. But she’s a one-dick-at-a-time kind of gal, and last year when I was transferred from Wall Street to run our Singapore office, I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her… or her sexpot. I'm a horny-as-fuck type of guy and a long-distance relationship was not what I was interested in, but Kristin was so damn hot with her toned body, big bouncy tits, and that juicy, sweet honey-pot of a pussy, I’d basically have done anything to maintain access to that. Didn’t hurt she did every single thing I demanded of her back at home. From getting on her knees and deep-throating my nine-inch cock, swallowing every drop of salty come she sucked out of it, to wearing six inch stiletto heels – the ones I can’t get enough of - to walk over to the couch, bend herself over and push a finger or two into herself, to spreading her cheeks open wide for me to plow my nine inches all the way in. To the hilt.

  We hadn’t been seeing each other long before I left for Singapore, but it’s been almost three years of me being a good little boy. Over half that time has been in this godforsaken long-distance situation. But if there’s anyone who could train this dog into keeping his dick dry, it’s Kristin. We met at a bar after work one evening, both of us arriving from our respective finance offices. I was thirty-eight at the time, a couple years younger than Kristin's forty years. I'd been out drinking whiskey and bullshitting with a few guys from work, checking out the talent that circled us brokers like gold-digging sharks. I’d gotten my dick wet with more than a couple of those cock-swelling chicks, hoping for pornstar behaviour but mostly ending up with a starfish on the mattress. I didn’t really care though, not as long as I had a warm hole in which to blow my load. But the second Kristin caught my eye from across that dark bar, I lost all interest in the pursuit of starfish.

  Kristin was different. I could tell by the way she held herself, she was an equal life and in the sack. I knew we’d be going home together that evening, and she knew it too.

  We had one drink to at least make it appear as though we were in control of ourselves, but within twenty minutes of stepping into her penthouse condo, we were fucking like animals. Depraved, horny, dirty, pound-it-in-every-hole kind of animals.

  I mean it started in the taxi on the way to her place, for God’s sake. The moment the door slammed, she’d unzipped my fly and pulled out my dick, gobbling it up with wet, sloppy gulps. She seemed to enjoy that the cab driver was privy to our debauchery, pulling me into the back of her hot throat like she was slurping up spaghetti while his watery eyes peered back at us in the rear view mirror. Usually I don’t like to share my women, but at that moment I couldn’t have cared less if he had whipped out his cock and started beating it until he came all over the steering wheel. That cab ride preceded one of the most satisfying sexual experiences of my life. Kristin wanted me to fuck her in every position possible, wanted me to come in her ass, her cunt, her mouth, all over her tits, and finally on her lust-filled face. I’d needed a full week to recover, not to mention about three gallons of Gatorade just to replenish my fluids.

  Hotter still was waking up the next morning to meet her daughter. Standing in the kitchen when I stumbled through to get Kristin and me a cup of coffee was her stunningly gorgeous daughter, Lacey. Being the hound-dog I was, I’d normally have tried to put the moves on her too. But considering she was wasn’t yet quite legal (Kristin had mentioned she had a kid who was about to graduate high-school, but she hadn’t mentioned that that kid was as hot as a Playboy model), and the fact that my cock had basically been fucked off my body hours earlier, I resigned myself to a polite hello before taking the mugs of joe back to the bedroom. I backed out of the designer kitchen, but not before catching her practically undress me with her pretty blue eyes as she stood in the morning light at the kitchen window. The sun had caught the fire in her strawberry blonde tresses as her gaze traveled over my hard, shirtless body following the ridges of muscles I’d worked so hard to maintain. She’d purred a response to my hello and bit a plump lower lip as her perky tits pressed tight little nubs of her nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top. Hooking her thumb into the waist band of the barely-there pajama shorts she’d been wearing and sitting back on a hip to flirt her hello, she had basically put herself on a platter for me.

  And I didn’t even blink.

  I may be a dog, but I sure as fuck won’t go near jailbait. No matter how tempting.

  Moans from the video prompt me to lift my head off the soft black headrest and I refocus on the screen. I’ve been faithful to Kristin longer than any other woman I’ve known. But that pussy is worth it
. Licking my lips and swallowing thickly, I increase the speed of my pumping fist, jacking hard as my eyes take in Kristin’s performance. She never shows her face in these videos, ensuring that some level of anonymity is maintained. I don't blame her, not when every second woman and their daughter is getting revenge-porned online. Plus it kind of adds to the mystery, the naughtiness. Who doesn’t like an anonymous fuck?

  She's perched up on spread knees on an office chair similar to the one I'm sitting in now. She's facing away from the camera, arching her back and reaching around to spread her ass cheeks for me as she leans over the chair back. Her body is even more toned and shapely than I remember which makes my cock surge in my hand. I watch as she trails a red-tipped fingernail over a taut, tanned ass cheek before dragging it right up the middle of her slick crevasse. What I’d give for my tongue to follow that trail, to delve into her and taste her sex again. My balls tighten again in my grasp as I watch that red middle fingernail rim the starfish of her asshole, pushing at it a little to show me how tight she is before finally plunging it in up to her second knuckle. A shudder of aching need rolls up my loins as she fingers her hole, in and out, in and out, before inching her ring-finger inside as well. An involuntary grunt escapes my throat and I know I'm nearing the limits of my ability to hold back the eruption of come swirling in my sack.

  I grit my teeth as she pulls out a massive black dildo from somewhere off camera, places it underneath her slippery slit before lowering her hips down to meet its tip. I watch her hips gyrate, wetting the knob with her creamy lubrication before she continues her descent, filling her juicy cunt to the brim while those two fingers return to plunge in and out of her asshole. She picks up speed and bounces away on the giant dildo and I finally let myself go with a thunderous howl of wonton satisfaction. By balls seize and my groin contracts. Jet after jet of ropy white come blast out of the head of my cock laying slick, milky tendrils over my washboard stomach.

  The sensation of my ripping orgasm is electrifying and overpowering; one to which I’m fully addicted. I just can’t get enough. I sit there as my heartbeat returns to its usual low rate, slowly stroking my softening shaft and enjoying the waves of pleasure rolling through me from the head of my dick to the edge of my scalp to my tips of toes. There's just something about these videos that sends my libido into overdrive. I mean, obviously I want that sick body in front of me, in person, so that I can finally get some real pussy wrapped around my cock, finally shove my fingers up a real ass, and plunge my monster dick into a teeny slit for real. But knowing that Kristin’s spreading herself open in front of a camera just for me is unbelievably hot.

  It occurs to me then that Kristin and I haven’t actually spoken in person for months now; we’d just been sending naughty video after naughty video to one another. She likes it when I send her clips of me enjoying her…work. But it’s true…it’s bee a long time since I’ve heard her voice. I make a mental note to FaceTime or call her this afternoon and grin as reach for my phone propped up on the desk, clicking off the recording function, and sending off the video I’d just made for her.

  I open my side drawer and pull out a fresh white cotton hand towel and clean myself up, careful not to get any stains on my designer suit pants or twelve-hundred-dollar white button down. I'm barely done tucking my shirt into my pants when outside my office door I hear my partner, Roger Silver, telling my assistant that he doesn't need an appointment to see me and he could give two shits that my door is closed. Moments later he barges through, muttering under his breath that those rules don't apply to him in this office.

  "Roger," I say as I buckle my belt. "As agreeable as always, I see. What can I do for you?"

  "For Christ's sake, Mark. How many times have we talked about your closed-door policy? You know it impacts office morale. We’re trying to create a more approachable atmosphere with the employees, remember? How are they possibly going to find you approachable when your door is constantly closed."

  Raking a hand through my coif of thick brown hair, I repress the desire to roll my eyes at his uptight nature, knowing the poor guy hasn't been fucked properly in years. Roger and I have known each since college – almost two goddamned decades now – and honestly, without him keeping me in line half the time, there's no way I'd be as successful as I am now. I owe him. "Roger, my man. You look like you need a massage. You want me to ask Kelly to book you rub-and-tug?"

  He just shakes his head at me, accustomed to my blasé nonchalance. "You're real fuckhead, you know that?"

  I grin at him as he wanders over to my floor-to-ceiling windows and takes in the view, hitching his hands up on his hips. Singapore may be a concrete jungle, but as skylines go, it's gotta be one of the best. "So did you barge past Kelly just to come in here just to tell me I’m a fuckhead, or did you actually have something to talk to me about? And hey, speaking of rules, if you're such a stickler for the open-door policy, you gotta have some respect for a man's gatekeeper."

  He chuckles and turns back to face me. "Touché. But seriously man, you've got to at least tow the company—" His eyes widen as they settle on my computer screen, the video of Kristin paused on a particularly explicit moment. "Jesus fucking Christ, Mark. Again with the girlfriend-porn?” He shoots me a disapproving glance but returns his focus to the hardcore image with a lick of his lips. His upper lip starts sweating. “You…you can't wait until you get home to get your rocks off, for once?" he finally gets out.

  It's my turn to chuckle. I'm not in the least bit embarrassed by what's up on the screen. In fact, I'm kind of proud. By the time I'd paused the video, Kristin had taken the thick dildo and shoved it all the way in her tight little asshole. I get off on people knowing about my insatiable sexual appetite and I sure as all hell love showing Kristin off. "What?" I say innocently." It's natural, man. Helps me focus. And you like it when I'm focused, don't you?"

  Roger's eyes are still glued to Kristin's stretched-out squat over her dildo, and I heard an audible swallow before he can address me again. With a resigned sigh, he says, "You're the luckiest dickhead on the planet, you know that? I couldn't get my ex to send me a titty pic when we were together and you're getting full on hard-core dildo in the ass movies every second day."

  "More like every day." I rib him.

  "Dickhead." He repeats with a scowl and I suddenly feel little guilty about my bragging. Roger's a good-looking guy, but he's had terrible luck with women. His ex, the one back in the States, she swore she'd stay faithful to him but within three or four months of us arriving in Singapore, she emailed Dear John letter telling him she'd met someone else. He'd been heartbroken for months, of course, and like the good friend I am I took him club after club playing the world’s best wingman to get him laid enough times to get over her. Incredibly, I didn’t cheat on Kristin once that whole time. I guess I’d gotten used to this whole monogamy thing after all.

  I glance at the computer screen then back to poor Roger. "You want me to ask Kristin if I can forward you some of these videos?” I ask, thinking back to the first cab ride we took together. “She likes being watched, you know.”

  He rubs the back of his neck, but ultimately shakes his head with a deflated sigh. "Nah, forget it. I’d just hate you even more. Besides, I’m a little sick of my own palm. I’d prefer the real thing."

  "Tell me about it," I agree, wondering if I should send Kristin a ticket to Singapore soon. I’ll ask her when I call her later, I think, still a little surprised that we actually haven’t spoken in months. Checking my watch, I note it's close enough to five to knock off for the day, and Roger’s sad expression needs an adjustment. "Come on, bud. Let's go find some pussy to drown your sorrows in."

  His sad expression crunches in confusion as he nods towards my crotch. “I thought you weren’t allowed to let that thing out of your pants.”

  "I’m allowed to look, just not touch,” I remind him and I’m about to reach my suit jacket when the ding of an incoming email catches my attention. I lean over my desk to che
ck my inbox and a jolt of excitement darts through my groin.

  Another email from Kristin.

  "Uh, just give me a second here,” I mumble at Roger, a smile spreading up my cheeks.

  Roger rolls his eyes. "I'll meet you downstairs. Dick."

  I shoot him a wink as he walks out the door before clicking open the email. The window expands on my screen and excitement jitters through me as I anticipate what her next performance might entail. But instead of the usual video attachment, all I see is text. But what incredible text it is…

  I hope you liked that last video, Daddy… Because surprise, surprise! Guess who’s coming to see you? I'll be there the day after tomorrow. I’m wet just thinking about kneeling in front of your big cock as you grip my hair in your fist and force yourself down my throat. Can't wait… xxx

  I don't know what kind of karma I must have earned to deserve all this, but I can't help but fist pump the air. I must've been a goddamn monk in a past life. Feeling jubilant, I'm about to log off and go meet Roger downstairs when I'm drawn back to her message.

  “…Daddy…”

  That is fucking hot. So naughty. Kristin’s never called me that before, but I’d be more than happy if she started now. Snatching my jacket off the chair I stride out of the office, my cock half-hard and pulsing as I go.

  Chapter 2

  My body's been on high alert for the past thirty-six hours. Every one of my atoms vibrating in harmony, aligning themselves one-by-one into a tapestry of arousal at my most fundamental level. The half-chub I walked out of my office with the day before last has stayed with me in varying levels of turgidity in anticipation of what was coming. Pun intended. I’m exhausted by the will-power it’s taken, the restraint I’ve mustered, to keep my hands off myself, to not blow my ever-threatening load as the minutes and hours ticked. I want to make today's upcoming events just that much more satisfying.